It's Only Breakfast, Dearie
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: Gold was a challenge, a tricky puzzle that demanded solving, a mystery that needed unraveling. Emma is unable to resist making another deal with Gold: to indulge in breakfast with him each morning in exchange for the chance to ask three questions of him each time. It's only breakfast...right? Set during Season 1. Golden Swan.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything involving Once Upon a Time. Everything belongs to ABC. **_

_**A/N: Some of you may be reading my story "Sunshine and Rain." Since I'm planning to wrap up that story this year, I wanted to write another Golden Swan story. I've been trying to come up with an idea for one for a while, with no luck. Then this idea hit me the other night. I'm not sure if it's good or not, but I have brain-stormed tons of ideas for it since then and I'm curious to see where it will lead me. I'd be honored if there are readers out there who want to take that journey with me. It's a simple concept, in my opinion, but I hope to make it interesting. **_

_**With that being said, enjoy the new story. I also want to make a small note: the events of this story start after Season One, episode 4, "Price of Gold." Yeah, I wanted to return to the earlier roots of the show for this one. **_

_**It's Only Breakfast, Dearie**_

__Emma never felt as much of an outsider in Storybrooke as she did whenever she walked into Granny's Diner in the morning.

It was nothing short of a madhouse. Every citizen of the town, young and old, seemed to flock there before eight o' clock, which only served as a bitter reminder that she was the ugly duckling in their midst. She sensed countless eyes boring into her back as she made her way around the occupied tables to an empty booth in the corner. Her only hope was that being in such a secluded spot would be enough to divert their attention, but she wasn't about to hold her breath.

When was the last time this town had something new to chew on? Even the headlines in the local newspaper, _The Daily Mirror_, were dull beyond belief. The story of a fourth grade spelling bee made the front page.

She was surprised her face wasn't plastered all over the front page for weeks to come.

It was so much easier to avoid the curious stares and speculative whispers when Henry was with her and cheerfully distracting her with his fairy tales. She didn't buy his theory about the curse, but she didn't feel right about raining on his parade, either. The only reason he wasn't sewn to her hip at the moment was because she insisted that he go to school. He wasn't above skipping school just to spend more time with her and, as much as she appreciated his warm attitude, she didn't want to be a bad influence on him. So she sent him to school. She even stuck around at the bus stop to make sure he boarded that bus. She was too familiar with shady behavior and mind games to believe that he would get on that bus if she simply walked away. If anything, he'd pop up in her back seat again.

She wondered if the mayor would be pleased by the fact that she was sincerely concerned about his well-being and education instead of stealing all his time away. Probably not. That woman was downright frigid.

"Hello? Earth to Emma!"

A sharp knocking of knuckles on the tabletop jarred her from her disconcerting thoughts. She blinked rapidly and turned her head to see Ruby standing there, clad in extra-tight, extra-short red shorts with a hand poised on her hip. The purse of her cherry lips, glossy and red as a Tootsie Roll pop, warned Emma that she was slightly annoyed.

"What do you want?"

Ruby dragged out each word and Emma got the sinking feeling that this wasn't the first time the waitress tossed the question her way. Whoops.

_What do I want? _Emma tried not to make too much of a show of scanning the menu. Her eyes widened as she glimpsed the column of prices. It never ceased to amaze her that the food here ran so high in price. It certainly wasn't McDonald's. _Let's see...I want Henry to let go of his cra-uh, wild theory about fairy tales before it does him more harm than good. I want the mayor to get off my back and to quit the apple cider she's been gulping down. I want to somehow get out of owing Gold a favor..._

Since none of those requests were likely to be fulfilled in the next five minutes, Emma decided to settle for...

"A hot chocolate with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. Oh, and a basket of fries." Ruby had begun to nod as she programmed Emma's order into her brain, but then she paused with a concerned tilt of her head. She scrutinized her as if she just sputtered Gibberish.

"Fries? This early in the morning?"

Emma frowned irritably. Her stomach grumbled, craving the crispy, greasy food. While surviving on the streets as a teenager, she had learned to stomach all sorts of less-than-gourmet foods in the morning because she never knew where her next meal was going to come from. Fries weren't the worst possible choice.

"If that guy-" She pointed her finger accusingly at a booth that contained a sandy-haired doctor, who was currently wolfing down several strips of bacon slathered in grease. "-can chow down on enough bacon for an entire orphanage without anyone batting an eye, I doubt a basket of fries would be too startling."

Ruby followed her finger and her nose twitched in disgust as she observed the way the doctor barely stopped to wipe the grease from his lips before moving on to the next piece of food. If that argument didn't work, Emma was going to point out the short, bald guy at the bar who was one drink away from belting out karaoke on top of it. The guy she happened to meet in Storybrooke jail.

"Fair point. Whale has an enormous appetite. Believe me, it isn't limited to food."

And as Ruby sped away to fill her order, Whale instinctively glanced up from his plate, as if he somehow knew his name had been included in their conversation. His cold blue eyes landed on Ruby's rear end as she passed by his table. Emma made a mental note to steer clear of that guy or else be held accountable for punching a doctor in the future.

She exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping forward, and returned her attention to the world beyond the window. A breeze shrieked past the sheet of glass. There were very few cars moving on the street, though there were plenty parked. Being such a small town, she figured most people opted to walk to their destination.

The door of the diner blew open and the golden bell on top chimed loudly. The shrill sound of the bell only lasted for a split second, but in that short time, a mere heartbeat, Emma noticed a dramatic change come over the entire diner. The excited chatter, which had been a roaring buzz in her ear, instantly died down to a faint whisper. Forks that previously scraped up bits of food halted halfway to gaping mouths. Heads drooped, eyes lowered. Even the sun seemed to hide behind the clouds outside the diner, leaving it to the shade.

_They treat him like he's Scrooge's long-lost brother, _Emma thought as she watched the lean, elegantly-suited figure of Storybrooke's pawnbroker stroll through the door.

Oh, yes, strolled was the right word. Each step looked to be carefully planned, his hips swung with ease, and even with a cane and a limp he retained some degree of grace. The man wore power like a second skin or favorable brand of cologne. As his intelligent brown eyes roamed over the patrons of the diner, with the precision of a vulture selecting its next victim, it was clear he was well aware of the effect he had on the townspeople-and he didn't give a damn. No, that wasn't quite right. He seemed to encourage it with the occasional grimace or leer at anyone who was caught looking. Emma was capable of recognizing the look of someone that wanted to be left alone, someone who courted misery at every turn, but she thought he was purposely working to ensure it.

Emma was the only one whose head was still raised. She never appreciated being intimidated by anyone. If anything, intimidation made her more defiant.

She stretched her legs until her boots rested on the opposite seat, ankles crossed. Leaning back, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her worn red leather jacket and dared to look. It wasn't an intimate look-her eyes roved over his figure without paying attention too long to any specific area-but it was _a look. _If there was a town memo about playing dead around Gold, she must have missed it.

Gold wandered to the bar where he ordered a cup of Granny's coffee. It may be higher in price than Emma expected, but it was miles better than the sludge that poured out of the broken machine in the hospital.

Ruby nodded stiffly and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she took his order. _Go away _radiated from her in thick waves; Emma was hit with it even though she was halfway across the diner. As far as she knew, Gold was the only walking, talking, breathing male organism in this town that Ruby hadn't attempted to flirt with or seduce. She wondered if that was because Gold was resistant to her womanly charms or if Ruby was afraid to try in case he wasn't.

In less than five minutes, Gold had his cup of coffee in hand. He sipped it gingerly and handed over the appropriate payment in the form of a slim piece of plastic. No rattling change on that man. Ruby forced a tight smile and even got up the nerve to wish him a good day, but Emma had a feeling she wanted to personally propel Gold out the door. With an acknowledging dip of the head, he turned to leave-

-and caught her looking.

Right in the center of the diner, he stopped and returned her stare. Unlike with the other townspeople, whom he had pinned under his thumb, the corner of his lips rose in a sly smirk. His lips parted just enough for the light to bounce off his gold tooth. There was a change of plans; she could read it plainly in his eyes before he even made the first move in her direction.

Whenever the subject of conversation happened to turn to Gold among the townspeople, Emma sometimes overheard them talk about that shiver of fear they got when he was near, as if Death were breathing down the nape of their necks. Men were reduced to vulnerable children, their bellies tingling with restless butterflies. Women felt their hearts race for the wrong reason.

Emma felt none of it. More than ever, as Gold drew closer and closer with each step, she realized how much she did not fear him. She was intrigued, not afraid. Gold was a challenge to her, a tricky puzzle that demanded solving, a mystery that needed unraveling.

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Swan," he drawled, tipping his cup of coffee toward her in mock salute. The way he said her name was smooth and slow, as though he truly loved the taste of it on his tongue. The Scottish accent added an extra layer of velvet.

"Mr. Gold," she returned just as calmly. His eyebrow perked up at her casual, confident tone. It was something the other people in this town severely lacked. The tip of his tongue traced his upper lip and she imagined he was lapping it up.

"Still not afraid of me?" He spread his arms out so she could take a good, hard look. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was deliberately posing for her.

"Give me a reason to be," she shot back. If he was taken aback by her boldness, nothing in his face revealed it. He was, after all, the one that chalked her lack of fear up to being cocky. Of course, he also claimed he liked it. Liked _her_.

"I assumed I had already." She rolled her green eyes to the diner's cracked ceiling.

"What? The fact that you have your hands in everything? So does the mayor and I'm not afraid of her, either." She hoped the mention of the mayor did not beckon her into the diner. Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Emma didn't have the patience to deal with both Gold and Regina Mills in one cramped space.

"An admirable quality," Gold praised her. His eyes shone with respect for her. He apparently didn't hold Madame Mayor in high regard, either. "Something else you and I have in common." Emma wondered if he was keeping a list in his shop.

"Go figure," she murmured under her breath. She noticed him take a careful step closer to the unoccupied seat across from her. She was acutely aware of every pair of eyes in the diner settling on them, awarding them the spotlight though she did not want it.

"Is this seat taken?" He gestured his cup of coffee to the seat that currently had her boots on it. She sat up straighter and dropped one of her feet to the ground. Even sliding into a booth looked graceful when Gold did it. "Sorry, dear. Need room for my cane." He patted the boot that was still propped on the seat and she dropped it. The cane leaned against the seat, the gold handle exquisitely polished and glinting in the wisp of sunlight that passed through the window.

The whispers started up again, but the excited chattering had yet to return to full force. Emma had a bad feeling that the news of her conversation with Gold-held in the same booth-would go around the town like wildfire. Ruby stopped by their table to deliver Emma's basket of fries and hot chocolate. Before she left, she angled her body toward Emma and disapprovingly rolled her eyes in Gold's direction.

Unfortunately for her, Gold never missed much.

"You know what they say, Ruby. Roll your eyes too frequently in the wrong manner and they'll be stuck that way." The color drained out of Ruby's cheeks. She turned a biting glare on Gold, her nostrils flaring. Thinking better of it, she held her tongue and turned away to attend to other, more polite customers. Gold's fingers wove mesmerizingly over the tabletop and he waited for her to take a few furious steps away. "Oh, and Ruby. One more thing. My appetite has suddenly spiked. If it's not too much trouble, I'd very much care for a fresh doughnut. Preferably one that contains sprinkles."

Ruby paused, but she did not turn around. Her shoulders quivered. Emma guessed she was trying to figure out how to swallow her tongue before she fired off a remark that made her life and Granny's more miserable than it already was. She could tell Gold enjoyed the rise he was getting out of her.

"No problem," Ruby barked and stormed off. Gold could not contain his chuckle. Emma felt sorry for the girl. She was simply another person victimized by the most powerful man in town.

"You do realize Ruby is possibly two steps away from splashing that hot coffee in your face and all over that dashing suit of yours," Emma said.

"You think my suit is dashing." He smoothed a hand over his crimson silk dress shirt, stopping just above the spot where his heart should be. Emma ignored his attempt to bait her. "Ruby would not be foolish enough to do anything of the sort. If she did, she knows I would return the favor by raising Granny's monthly rent. They're barely making ends meet as it is."

Emma gave a derisive snort. The man kept taking her by surprise at every turn. His eyebrows rose.

"You don't think I would?"

"I know you would. That's the problem." She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. While gathering her throughts, she dumped almost half a bottle of ketchup over her fries and popped one in her mouth. Gold leaned back in his seat and she suspected it was because he was worried about getting ketchup on his shirt by accident. "You know what I think? I think you want the people of this town to hate you, to fear you, and most importantly...to avoid you."

Gold's face remained a perfectly controlled blank slate, but she sensed a storm brewing beneath the surface. For one thing, he finally broke away from her gaze, dropping his eyes to the tabletop instead. He hadn't stopped studying her once since their eyes first locked. The smirk dried up on his lips, crumbling away.

"Why would any reasonable man do that?" Emma waved a fry toward his chest. He held up his hand to use as a shield in case any stray drops of ketchup went flying.

"You tell me. Maybe you think it's what you deserve. Supposedly you're the town's monster, so you assume the role and act like it."

This time, he didn't offer up any clever response. He didn't say anything at all. His eyes took on a glazed look, as if his mind had been transported to some faint memory in the past, somewhere she could not reach. Maybe she had pushed a bit too hard.

"I'm guessing the only reason you chose to sit with me is because everyone else in this diner would drop dead of a heart attack if you invited yourself to breakfast. Except Granny."

Emma glanced over at the old woman behind the bar, who was sternly watching them over the rims of her glasses. The way her knuckles folded and unfolded suggested she would be happy to give Gold a special kind of sandwich if he tried anything funny. Emma switched her attention back to Gold and found him looking back at her again, his brown eyes calculating and focused once more.

"You are quite the ray of sunshine in the morning, Miss Swan." She didn't detect any abundance of sarcasm, but everything Gold said had an underlying meaning. She took a generous mouthful of hot chocolate while contemplating how best to handle him. Whenever she held a conversation with him, it felt like they were playing a fierce game of chess.

"What do you want?" Gold feigned ignorance, his head slightly cocked to the side.

"Who says I want anything? Besides the usual cup of coffee," he stated with a lift of his coffee mug, "and the pleasure of your company, of course." Emma didn't exactly feel honored.

"Because I know the kind of man you are." It was something she vowed never to forget when she was around Gold. Forgetting about the kind of man he was would only lead to her being caught in his net. It surprised her when he chuckled again.

"Really, dear? On the contrary. I don't think you know the first thing about the kind of man I am." If it was meant to be a challenge, Emma finally bit the line. She fought for control of the conversation, but knew she was losing. It was difficult not to be led in such a manner when the person sitting opposite her was so skilled with words.

"I know you're the most powerful man in town and that you have a habit of reminding everyone of it every chance you get. I know you like to make deals, ones that aren't always clean. You barter for newborn babies and haggle for favors. You're a smooth talker, a gentleman when you want to be, and manipulative enough to make a nun swear. Need I go on?"

Throughout her spiel, his grin grew wider and wider. It honestly reminded her of the Grinch in the classic Christmas cartoon. Yet for every bullseye that she managed to hit, she felt there were more darts to be thrown. She just couldn't find the target.

"Is that all? For all those discoveries, I'm willing to bet you have twice as many questions." He brought his coffee mug to his smug lips and waved his hand toward her, granting her permission to fire away. Emma's curiosity was much too powerful to resist such an opportunity.

"How exactly did you come to be the most powerful man in town? So powerful that even the mayor seems wary of you? And why go through all the trouble of trying to take Ashley's baby just to settle for a favor from me? What are you planning to do with it? 'Cause I swear, if you think for a second that I'm going to do something to...please you..."

Emma couldn't finish that thought, at least not out loud. She motioned her fry to the tabletop and everything hidden underneath it. A drop of ketchup dripped from her fry onto the table. Gold actually looked offended by the accusation.

"There's another detail you've forgotten already, Miss Swan. I may be the most feared man in town, but you said it yourself. I am capable of behaving like a gentleman. I would not force you into a situation that you are morally and emotionally uncomfortable with. You have my word on that."

Emma was out of ideas. She had no clue what he planned to do with her favor and the promise of his respect as a gentleman did not change the fact that she wanted it off her shoulders. She slumped back in her seat, defeated.

"Then, what?" Gold's eyes glimmered.

"A curious thing, aren't you? I can see where your boy gets it." It was true. Anyone who knew Henry for more than ten minutes knew he was curious in nature. There wasn't a single day that passed where he didn't ask questions of some sort. It warmed Emma's heart a little to have that connection with the kid. Gold set down his cup of coffee and extended his hand over the table. "Care to make another deal?"

It was on the tip of Emma's tongue to refuse. She should have said _no _outright-she already owed him one favor. What could he possibly do with two? That was the issue: she didn't know what he wanted. Yet.

"Depends on the terms." Gold's teeth flashed from beneath his lips.

"Smart woman. I admire that," he said. "Allow me to keep you company over breakfast indefinitely and in return I will allow you to ask three of your burning questions each time. Before you ask, yes, Emma, that is all there is to it. Now...do we have a deal?"

Emma regarded his hand skeptically.

"Any three questions? No holding back on me?" She had to make sure he wasn't about to slip through a loophole.

"Any three questions your heart feels content to ask. You have my word that I will answer openly and honestly. I always keep my promises, _Em-ma_." Her name fell from his lips slowly and playfully. It wrapped around her brain like caramel. Her eyes flicked from his face to his hand.

It was only breakfast.

And she was curious about this man whom everyone in town feared.

"Deal." She stretched her hand forward and clasped his hand, sealing the deal. His hand was shockingly warm and soft. She suddenly got another sharp insight into Gold: he definitely used those little bottles of lotion to keep his hands so tender. Gold grinned like a cat who'd been given the cream.

"Splendid. Our first breakfast will be on me."

His hand hovered over her basket of fries drowning in ketchup. Finally, Ruby got around to bringing his sprinkled doughnut and he took an eager bite out of it, dabbing his lips with a napkin afterwards. She snatched up another fry.

"By the way, Emma..." She paused just as she was about to shove the fry in her mouth. "You have whipped cream on your nose."

...

_**Not sure how I feel about the title yet. I may change it if I come up with something that suits it better. What do you guys think? **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: First off, I want to thank all those that read and reviewed already. I'm glad so many people found the first chapter to be entertaining. Hopefully, I'll have a lot of fun writing this story and it'll be even better if the readers enjoy it. Many thanks to orthankg1, DragonRose4, SakuraBlossom58, mydirt09, beverlie4055, Shizuku Tsukishima749, Malarkay, and boots111 for their reviews. **_

_It's good to be...well, back, _Emma thought as she dragged her feet up each step and inserted the spare key into the lock of Mary Margaret's door.

She was still getting over the shock of being offered a comfortable place to stay by someone she technically didn't even know. There was no way she could call Storybrooke home yet, but she had survived in worse situations. Hell, she had been prepared to curl up in the back seat of her cramped Bug, sad as it was.

Emma stumbled as she got the door open. Mary Margaret warned her that the handle stuck from time to time, but that she didn't have enough money as a humble schoolteacher to replace it. Emma would have chipped in, but she was running low on cash as well.

She shut the door, kicked off her boots, left them in a heap by the door. The soles of her feet were dreadfully sore from walking so much around Storybrooke in the past few days. Just another thing she would have to get used to eventually.

She tossed her keys on the kitchen table and only then noticed Mary Margaret with her elbows propped on it. A turquoise mug hid the bottom half of her face and she appeared lost in thought.

"Um, hi," Emma greeted hesitantly. She wondered if it was a good idea to disrupt Mary Margaret's train of thought. Whatever she was thinking so hard about, the pinch of skin above the bridge of her nose and the unmistakable confusion in those bright green eyes warned Emma that it was not a pleasant daydream.

For Mary Margaret's sake and sanity, she hoped she wasn't still lingering over the mystery that was John Doe and his wife. Emma might not have been the luckiest in love, but she was capable of recognizing the look of it.

"What's going on?" She inquired with a touch of concern. Mary Margaret snapped out of her reverie, sharply straightening up. The liquid in her mug sloshed against the sides. She studied Emma as if she was trying to puzzle something out. Emma squirmed under her scrutiny.

"Nothing," Mary Margaret blurted out all too quickly for Emma to believe it. Her pale hands wrapped around the mug and she appeared to hold it for dear life. "Nothing is going on with me. Unless there's something going on with you. If there is, we should probably talk about it."

Emma frowned. Now she was the one confused. There was obviously something bothering Mary Margaret deeply. Being a shy, gentle creature, she never demanded answers outright. Her way was to coax the answer out without too much confrontation, to make the person want to discuss their problems. It was a natural motherly instinct that dwelled within the softspoken schoolteacher. It was also one of the reasons Emma found it hard to open up to Mary Margaret yet, having been lacking in a stable source of motherly support all her life.

She despised the tension filling the space between them as they stood at eye level, so she volunteered to be the one to take a seat at the table. Being off her feet felt so good.

"Are we going to keep talking in circles? Because if we are, I could really use a drink first." A cold drink sounded nice, as did a soothing hot shower before tumbling headfirst into bed. Mary Margaret caught her pink lip between her teeth.

"After school let out, I went to the diner for a late lunch. Ruby told me a strange story, that you were having an exciting breakfast-" Emma's head sunk to the table. "-with Mr. Gold. Just so you know, Ruby is known for being the town gossip on top of town harlot."

Emma gradually picked her head up from the table, only to feel her temples start to ache. She could really use that drink now. Or two. She should have known the story of her breakfast...date...with Gold would spread through the town like wildfire.

Mary Margaret wouldn't quit staring at Emma with wide, imploring eyes, so she ultimately decided to fill her in on the story before she could make too many judgments.

"I made another deal with Gold. I have the chance to ask him three personal questions each day if I have breakfast with him." Mary Margaret's eyebrows rose. She looked like a tiny deer caught in headlights. Emma took it as a sign that she wasn't in favor of the idea.

"No one has ever dared to ask Gold anything personal before. Most of us don't know much about him other than the fact that he's our landowner."

Emma had to wonder what a kind, timid person like Mary Margaret did when she crossed paths with Gold on the street. He praised himself for being a gentleman, but Emma was certain Mary Margaret would shake in her boots nonetheless. She was the mouse and Gold was the serpent.

Mary Margaret set down her mug. Then she reached across the table and clasped Emma's hand. It was still warm from being wrapped so tightly around the mug.

"You and I haven't known each other long, but I can tell you are a very smart, brave woman. Maybe a little rough around the edges," Mary Margaret admitted and squeezed her fingers together to prove just how little. "Despite that, I feel I should warn you: be careful around Gold. He isn't the most powerful, fearsome man in town because he hands out homemade pink-frosted cupcakes."

Emma rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She slid her hand out from Mary Maragret's grasp and deposited it in her lap. For a second, Mary Margaret looked almost pained by the rejection, but Emma concentrated on ignoring it. She wasn't comfortable with such gestures.

"No, that's more up your alley." Blood rushed to Mary Margaret's cheeks, giving her a healthy pink glow. Her mouth fell open.

"I am not _that _sweet," she protested. Emma tossed her a look of genuine pity. She was pretty sure the most badass thing Mary Margaret had ever done was not leave a tip for Ruby at the diner when she was tight on rent.

"Could have fooled me. I take one look at you and I have this strange urge to brush my teeth. You're as pure as they come." Mary Margaret looked startled to hear it. Emma only hoped she hadn't unleashed a monster in the form of a rebellious Mary Margaret. "Don't worry about me. It's just breakfast."

"Even in this town, Emma, there is no such thing as _just breakfast._ Especially with a man that seems to have an ulterior motive for everything."

Emma had to agree with her there. The man probably had an ulterior motive every time he drew a breath. The motive being that he would stick around to live another day and haunt the inhabitants of the town.

Mary Margaret paused and cast her eyes down at the table. Her finger rubbed circles over the surface of it. Emma got the feeling she was working up the courage to say something important, but she had yet to find the words.

"You still like Graham, right?"

Oh, yeah. Her new roommate was under the impression that she had a thing for Storybrooke's stubbled, smooth of accent Sheriff. It was the underlying meaning that made Emma rear her head back in disbelief.

"_That's_ what you're getting out of this?" She thought she was trying to start something with Gold? Was that what the entire town was going to assume? "There is no way that he and I...that I would ever...with someone like him...I'm just curious! Haven't you ever heard the phrase _keep your enemies close?_"

Mary Margaret nodded considerately.

"True, Emma, but there is another saying that might fit just as well here: curiosity killed the cat."

Mary Margaret collected her mug and washed it out in the sink, leaving Emma to ponder over her words. She got up from her chair, strode to the fridge, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey sitting on the top shelf. Mary Margaret eyed her suspiciously, but did not attempt to talk her out of it.

She figured this was as good a time as any to stop thinking.

...

_Storybrooke's Sweethearts?_

That was what Emma saw when she grabbed Mary Margaret's copy of _The Daily Mirror_ in the morning. Front page, in big, bold, black letters, above an enlarged picture of her and Gold in the midst of having breakfast together. It didn't help that she had been caught leaning forward attentively, with a ketchup-dripping fry dangling from her fingers between them, as though she were about to feed it to him. Meanwhile, Gold's picture featured that creepy little grin he seemed to save for her.

The photo had been taken inside the diner, not too far from their corner booth from the looks of it. Probably snapped by the same slimy reporter that ran the newspaper. Sidney Glass.

She would have preferred to have her face plastered on the front page, mugshot style, under the label of _Outsider_. If there was anyone in town that didn't already know about her breakfast with Gold, they knew now.

_I hope the kid doesn't see this before I can explain it to him myself, _she thought, though the chance of that slimmed when she noticed several people in the diner scanning the same headlines and turning in their seats to gawk at her like a science experiment. _Great. As if it's not bad enough that I'm the outsider, now they probably think I'm a gold digger._

The headlines turned her stomach, but she couldn't stop glaring at it. Every time she put it down, she picked it back up again. The headlines never vanished, much as she willed it.

"Looks like you and I made the front page," Gold's alluring voice floated over the top of her newspaper.

Emma jumped in her seat and dropped the paper on the table. What was even more surprising was that he had a hot cup of coffee in front of him and there was a mug of cocoa in front of her. Whipped cream, cinnamon, just the way she liked it. She hadn't even heard him approach, hadn't heard him slide into the booth. And the guy had a _cane. _It was there, leaning in the corner of the booth, just as the day before.

Gold was endlessly impeccable in his charcoal suit, with every silken strand of hair in place, his brown eyes focused and trained solely on her face. She expected no less.

Emma glanced around at the other customers in the diner. Some of them nervously met her eyes, but they didn't spare a glance for Gold. Was she the only one that was startled by the fact that the guy apparently popped up out of thin air? Or were they all used to it by now? _It's a good way to get punched in the face, _she thought angrily.

"How the hell do you do that?"

As soon as the question was out, she regretted it. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe that one wouldn't count. He wouldn't be cruel enough to play that game, would he?

But that was before she saw the way the corners of his lips curled. She rehearsed the terms of their deal and swore in her head. He granted her three questions each day-he never specified which ones counted.

"Not an impressive first question..._sweetheart_," he lilted. She bristled as the term of endearment slipped from his lips. "However, I promised I would answer honestly. I've always been quiet on the feet. It serves me well when I wish to get the upper hand in my approach. Namely toward those I deal with, Regina, and, most recently, you."

He flashed one of his carnal grins. Emma flattened her back against the seat and crossed her arms over her breasts. Why couldn't Storybrooke's reporter make headlines out of the way she flung daggers at him with her eyes? She supposed she shouldn't tempt fate. With her luck, the headlines would read: _Trouble in Paradise. _

"My creepy senses are tingling," Emma mumbled.

Gold's face became a blank slate. He made a silent O with his lips. Was this town so sheltered from the world beyond it that he didn't recognize the reference? Not that she was offering up a movie night or anything. Breakfast between them was enough for now.

"Shall we order breakfast? Or would you prefer to get your other two questions out of the way?" He tented his fingers beneath his chin and waited patiently. An alarming thought struck Emma.

"What if I...?" Gold's fingers bounced off each other as she teetered on the precipice of wasting another question. There was so much she yearned to ask him yet. If she was going to wrangle answers out of him and crack the mystery that was Gold, she would have to play his game. "Suppose I run out of questions before we finish breakfast. I doubt you and I are going to eat in silence."

She could practically hear the wheels cranking in his head. Did they ever stop?

"Should you use up your three questions before we are finished with our breakfast, I will ask the questions," he proposed.

Emma's shoulders tensed. A cold feeling of dread wriggled down the nape of her neck, as if someone had pressed a melting ice cube to it. It was difficult to open up to Mary Margaret, but to someone like Gold? She had the suspicion that if she opened up to him, then it would be all over. There would be no getting him out of her head. He would attach himself to her like a leech and suck her dry.

"That wasn't part of the deal," she objected. He shrugged, his shoulders flexing loosely under the expensive material of his suit.

"Then we'll eat in silence."

There was no arguing with him. He always seemed to be the one in control. Emma wasn't sure she wanted him staring at her wordlessly, devouring her like a delicious dessert, but she did not want to take a trip down memory lane, either. Surprisingly, his rich brown eyes softened.

"You're not required to answer any of my questions. I understand how hard it may be to let someone in. On the other hand, you're not the only one that's curious."

It was one of those moments where she glimpsed the man beneath that carefully constructed mask. That wise, pained individual who perhaps had been dealt a series of poor cards. It would be unfathomable to most people that he could be so miserable, given his status and wealth, but it wasn't improbable.

How many mistakes had he made in the past? How many was he still paying for?

"Another thing we have in common," she whispered, echoing his words from the day before. That brief glimpse of the man underneath dissolved. The mask dropped down into place. He was the cryptic, powerful dealmaker once more and he had the gall to wink at her.

Ruby finally glided over to take their order. She didn't fix any disapproving glares at Emma this time. However, when she prepared to take their order, she looked to Emma first and gave Gold her back. He frowned with annoyance.

"I'll have..." Emma looked over the menu. She wanted something simple and easy to consume. Nothing that would smear on her face and claim Gold's attention any more than necessary. "A plate of buttermilk pancakes."

It instantly reminded her of Henry. According to him, chocolate chip pancakes were his favorite and Regina never let him indulge in chocolate or candy. Chocolate chips as a topping on a breakfast meal must have been a sin.

"I figured you'd be like Henry and order chocolate chip," Ruby said, but Emma shook her head. A horrible image popped up in her head of talking to Gold with a spot of melted chocolate on her lips or teeth. "On the occasions that the Mayor isn't with him, I let him get away with it. Don't tell her I said that."

Ruby sent a scathing look toward Gold, a warning. When she turned her back to him again, she repeatedly rolled her eyes in his direction and her eyebrows bobbed up and down. Emma sensed Ruby was trying to pass on another message of _stranger danger. _

"Next time you should invite little Henry," Gold suggested. She expected a sinister smirk to follow that, but he seemed to speak fondly of the kid. "Just one of Granny's special omelettes, Ruby."

Ruby made a small _m-hm_ and dutifully went off to fill their order.

"There must be a reason why Granny's omelettes are so special," Emma hinted. Gold busied his hands with fixing his black tie and lapels. She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't get one drop of food on his suit.

"Granny is very much like you. She'll never relinquish her secrets. Believe me; I've had...a complicated relationship with her for a long time."

"Which leads me to my second question," Emma announced. She wasn't sure if she should ask about his complicated relationship with Granny. A spark of excitement passed over Gold's face. "How old are you?"

Gold feigned astonishment and pressed his hand over his heart.

"It's not polite to ask an older man his age." Emma shot a serious look across the table. She knew he would answer-he had to, per the terms of their deal. He dropped the act. "Guess."

"That's not how this works and you know it." She took a sip of her cocoa and waited. This time, she made sure to wipe her mouth and nose with a napkin. No splotches of cream on her nose today.

She didn't know why he was hesitating. He couldn't be _that _old. Despite his age and reputation, she had seen several young women checking him out after his back was turned. It must be the suits. There was no denying he wore them well.

"Would you believe me if I claimed I was, say, 300 years old?" Emma responded with a short, dry laugh. She was getting used to his evasive manner.

"You're wise enough to be, but you don't look a day over...forty-five," she guessed.

"Close. Forty-three," he answered.

Emma studied him intently, applying the number to his appearance. He was definitely an older man, one that oozed power and charisma. He was intelligent, refined, suave. There were very few gray hairs amidst his silky mane of dark hair. Those brown eyes, those disarming eyes that often seemed to peer into her soul, were the eyes of someone who had seen too much of the world. He was on top now, the proud owner of the town, but she would bet he hadn't always been that way.

"I don't need to ask your age. You're twenty-eight," he said matter-of-factly. Emma gaped at him. She hadn't bragged about her birthday. She had only told...Henry. Of course. The kid probably told everyone. "Your boy is as much a well of information as Ruby. I might be a few days late, but happy birthday, Emma."

While he smiled at her as if she was something truly special, she could only picture that lonesome cupcake, topped with a blue star.

"Thanks," she said flatly.

Their food came soon after and Emma was grateful for the distraction. Ruby placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of her. Steam curled below her nose, carrying the delicious aroma of hot butter. She took up the bottle of syrup-she would be careful not to get the sticky substance on her-and poured it over her pancakes.

She chanced a glance at Gold. He appeared to be satisfied with his precious omelette and was already taking the first bite. Even the way that man ate was precise and fascinating. He brought a small piece of the omelette to his lips and sucked it up. He rolled the omelette on his tongue and let his eyes drift closed in bliss. He looked like he was riding a wave of ecstasy.

Seeing him that way, seeing his mouth work that way, Emma was hit with the fleeting thought about what it would be like to kiss him. Not a simple peck on the lips, but a genuine, passionate kiss, with his lips sucking and his tongue rolling just as it did with that omelette.

Where the hell did that come from? Had Gold really dug under her skin that much?

"Your plate is overflowing," he told her after swallowing his piece of omelette. Emma looked down and moaned in horror. She hadn't been aware that she was still pouring the syrup. She quickly put down the bottle of syrup, dabbed up any stray drops on the table, and poked a fork into the pancakes. They were entirely drenched in sticky amber syrup.

So much for not getting it on her. A thin stream of syrup drizzled when she plucked the first piece.

She saved her remaining question for when they were nearly finished with their food. It was increasingly difficult not to observe Gold while he pleasurably ate his omelette. More than once, she found herself carving through the pancakes and into the plate.

"One more question," he reminded her. "Whenever you're ready."

Emma eyed the last few scraps of pancake on her plate. Her belly was stuffed to the brim. After this, they would go their separate ways and likely meet again the next morning.

"Okay, last question. When you enlisted my help to find Ashley, why didn't you tell me about her baby?"

His forehead became etched with deep lines. At the right angle, she could see the scar under his hair from when Ashley knocked him out. The light in his eyes dimmed and he almost looked disappointed by her question.

"I already answered that question," he replied. For him, it was another swift evasion.

"I know. I'm asking again because you didn't convince me." When she confronted him in the hospital, there was something...off about the way he answered. Lack of eye contact, too long of a pause. She was nearly one hundred percent sure it was a lie. At least, it wasn't the whole truth.

He exhaled sharply through the nose.

"I could give you the same answer, in which case you would be disappointed and wasteful of one question," he warned.

"There's another reason. Something you're not telling me," she prodded. He looked down into his lap, where his hands were folded. Gone was that killer smile. He appeared troubled, as if he was debating whether to come clean.

"Perhaps I did not want you to make too many hasty judgments about me," he spoke tensely. He did not lift his gaze. None of the alarms went off in Emma's head. This sounded more like the truth.

"What sort of judgments do you think I'd make? The deal with Ashley seemed pretty straightforward to me."

"I was bargaining for a child. I suppose I expected you would consider me a vile man that collects children in unholy deals and carries them home to boil in stew."

Emma's eyes widened. She whipped her head around at the people hiding behind menus, conversing softly and likely hanging their names on their lips. She caught Ruby staring over at their table, the cap of a pen being gnawed on between her teeth. The infamous Storybrooke gossipmonger.

Gold looked mournful to consider such a gruesome tale. Even if he tried to dispel some of the rumors, it wouldn't do him any good. Besides, he had neither the patience nor care to invest himself so emotionally in the town.

"Do people honestly buy that?" One of his shoulders lifted weakly. "Who the hell are you? Rumpelstiltskin?" His brows furrowed. Too late, Emma realized her mistake, even if her questions were only intended to be sarcastic.

"You're three questions over your limit, dear," he scolded lightly. His mischievous spirit slid back over his body like a well-worn cloak. "I have half a mind to treat you to breakfast tomorrow and ask all the questions I please."

Emma shoved her plate away and rested her arms on the table. _Try me_ radiated from her eyes-or at least she hoped so.

"Give me a refund," she demanded.

Mirroring her stance, he put his arms on the table and loomed forward. Their faces were mere inches apart now, though she did not pull back. She wasn't going to recoil from him and she wasn't going to let him get to her. He raised a finger and it almost brushed one of the golden curls along her cheek.

"Just this once," he relented. His breath warmed her nose and made it twitch. Thankfully, he was the one to settle back and give her some breathing room. Now that she was able to think clearly, there was something she felt he needed to hear.

"You're a crafty man. You make shady deals...but I don't believe you'd ever harm a child. I see the way you treat Henry. It's the kindest I've ever seen you treat anyone. The way you look at him, it's almost fatherly. He reminds you of someone."

She didn't tack on a question at the end. Not because she wasn't allowed, but because the answer was already emerging in his face. Once more the mask fell away. Underneath was sadness, pain, even fear. Irritation, panic, rage. A flood of emotions too powerful for him to hide.

She must have hit a nerve. Abruptly, he slid out of the booth and gathered his cane. Without meeting her eyes, he slapped enough money down on the table to cover both their meals.

"Same time tomorrow, Miss Swan?" He did not bother to wait for a reply before limping to the exit.

...

Emma didn't know how long she sat there after watching Gold disappear from view. Now she knew what it felt like whenever someone ran headfirst into her walls. The murmurs rose in volume again when Gold was gone, though she still felt eyes on her. Most if not all of them in that diner had noticed Gold's displeasure before walking out. The headline _Trouble in Paradise_ flashed again through her mind even if she didn't spot anyone with a camera.

She folded up the newspaper, in a way that she didn't have to look at the headlines. Before she left, she stopped at the bar where Ruby was hastily filling orders under Granny's evil eye. The waitress smiled with relief now that she saw Emma was alone.

"You survived...again," she teased.

"Someone put that on a T-shirt," one of the customers at the bar...Leroy, if she recalled, remarked over the rim of his alcoholic drink. How could someone drink so early in the morning? Emma could smell the alcohol on his breath. Graham would certainly have his hands full.

"So, why were you rolling your eyes at me this time?" Emma asked Ruby. The waitress' smile diminished. She waved her hand and led Emma to a quieter end of the bar, where they could talk with more privacy.

"I guess no one told you that Regina and Gold are like the yin and yang of this town. Cut from the same cloth. Most of the time they ignore each other, other times they publicly oppose each other. He's made deals with her like everyone else. What if the only reason he's interested in these breakfast dates with you is so he can spill everything you say to the mayor?"

There was genuine concern and fear written on Ruby's face. First Mary Margaret, now her...it was clear that the idea of having breakfast with Gold was unfavorable to most.

"You're saying Gold may be one of Regina's spies." Her tone implied how ridiculous she thought it was. Whenever Gold mentioned Regina's name, it was with mockery and disgust, not fondness.

"That's _exactly _what I'm saying," Ruby exclaimed and slapped her palm down on the bar. Several heads turned in their direction, including Granny's. If Ruby wasn't careful, she would be reprimanded for not doing her job. Unfortunately, Ruby never noticed, consumed as she was by the effort of making Emma see the light. "Just wait. Those two might screw us over one of these days by realizing their evil tendencies, combining it, and creating a brood of evil mutant babies."

Ruby shuddered violently. Emma scrunched her nose in distaste. She didn't think Regina or Gold would fancy that fantasy.

"That's why I'm telling you to be careful," Ruby continued desperately. "You're the new girl and I'm giving you this advice because you were good enough to save Ashley's baby. If Gold turns out to be her eyes and ears, she'll crush you under her iron fist like the rest of us."

Emma mulled it over.

"Seems logical..." Ruby spread her arms, as if to say _there you go. _"...but I still don't believe it." Ruby groaned and stomped her heel on the tiled floor. Emma could tell she was getting frustrated, maybe enough to give up the argument altogether.

"You're the outsider. You've only been here less than a week. I have been here..." Ruby's words trailed off. Her dark eyes glazed over, as though she had fallen into a trance. Emma frowned, finding it suspicious. How could Ruby not remember how long she'd been in Storybrooke, when she was nineteen at the most? Ruby shook her head and the glazed look vanished. "Well, I've been here as long as I can remember. I know Gold and I know Regina. Whatever you're doing with Gold, it isn't just breakfast."

That was the second time someone told her that. How was she supposed to make Ruby understand when she so strongly disliked Regina and Gold?

"I don't believe it because to me he seems to loathe Regina as much as you do." Ruby inhaled deeply, the color in her face draining away. She looked toward the entrance, as if expecting Regina to have materialized by the mere mention of her name.

"You must have missed the part where I said he made deals with her," Ruby hissed. Emma shrugged. _So what? _

"He makes deals that will suit him. What does he have to gain by selling me out to Regina and acting as her personal walkie-talkie?"

He didn't strike her as the kind of guy that cared to get in good with the mayor. If anything, reporting to Regina like one of her lackeys would only grant her power over him. She seriously doubted Gold would appreciate being restrained in such a way.

"Who knows what that guy wants?" Ruby snapped. It was obvious to Emma that no one in town really knew. Not even she had any insights and she exchanged more words with Gold in a week than these people did in an entire year. The bramble of perplexing thoughts in her head grew thicker.

"He doesn't want Regina," she murmured mostly to herself. Finally, Granny turned her full attention on Ruby and began charging along the bar. Ruby gave up and returned to the customers before she could get scolded in front of everyone.

Emma didn't pay the waitress' absence any mind. She was too lost in thought. _It has nothing to do with Regina. There's more to it than that...and I'm going to find out what it is. _


	3. Chapter 3

_You might want to check his castle. _

That was precisely what Mary Margaret advised her to do when they first met, when she asked where to find Henry in town. Since then, she always checked there first whenever she was looking for the kid.

The "castle" was not as elegant as it sounded-it was a simple wooden structure that sat on the sand lining the harbor. An old playhouse meant for the children of Storybrooke. The only child she ever saw there was Henry. He often went there to escape Regina or clear his head if something was troubling him.

Today, the source of the perplexed expression on his face lay in his hands: a copy of the town newspaper. As she approached his castle, she already glimpsed the bold headlines that accompanied the grainy picture of her and Gold. She hoped the groan was only in her head. She had been hoping he didn't get a chance to see the newspaper before she could explain it away, but she had no such luck.

She was surprised to find that she was genuinely worried about what he might think. When she first arrived in Storybrooke with the mission of returning him home to his mother, she had a desire to sever all ties with him as soon as possible. It all went back to the reason she gave him up in the first place: she never believed she could be his best chance. Now, the prospect of walking away was getting harder and harder to imagine.

"Hey, kid," she greeted forlornly, hopping up onto the wooden ledge. He didn't take his eyes away from the newspaper as she sat down and his fingers seemed to wrinkle the edges even tighter. She struggled to find a way to begin explaining, but her tongue didn't want to cooperate. The words dried up in her throat. For a long moment, the only noises were the screeching of the gulls overhead and the lapping of the water.

"What are you doing with him?" Henry finally demanded outright. All the while, he frowned unhappily at the glaring headlines. Emma's shoulders caved under the weight of her guilt. From the disappointed tone of his voice, she had done something terribly wrong.

"Well...as you can see, I...had breakfast with him," she said, gesturing to the photograph. Looking at it made her want to rip it to shreds and scatter those shreds to the wind. In that context alone, it looked like...no, she didn't want to even finish that thought.

"Was it a date?" This time, the groan issued from her throat loud and clear. Apparently, Henry didn't have a problem with throwing out the notion that everyone in town had already assumed.

The next time she looked down at the paper, she realized that was exactly what it looked like. A date. He hadn't been there to witness their breakfast unfold and she had yet to tell him about the deal that led to it in the first place. With only the photo as evidence, the headline of _Storybrooke's Sweethearts_ was loaded with suggestion.

"It was _not _a date," she insisted. It was bad enough that everyone in town suspected she and Gold had a thing going; she really didn't want the kid thinking the same way. She clasped her hands in her lap until the knuckles turned white and decided to come clean. "I made another deal with him, the same day that photo was taken. I agreed to have breakfast with him. In exchange, he has to answer any three questions I ask each day."

The question left to her was: would Henry assume it was worse to have breakfast with Gold or to make a deal with him?

At last, Henry's eyes rose from the newspaper. Already she could see doubt flickering there. Doubt, worry, even a little fear. He folded up the newspaper and tucked it in the narrow space between their hips.

"You should know what he's like. You saw how dangerous he was when he tried to take Ashley's baby. Isn't it enough that you owe him one favor?" The concern in his voice made her tense up. She was still getting used to the kid, but it was obvious he had a soft spot for her in his heart. Instead of the mother who gave him up ten years ago, he viewed her as the heroic savior he proclaimed her to be. A beacon of hope and goodness, straight out of a fairy tale.

"You were the one that wanted to know who he was in relation to the book. Here's our chance to find out. Consider it my way of gathering intel."

The implication toward Operation Cobra made his eyes light up anew. His mouth twitched this way and that as he considered her reasoning, his defenses slowly dropping. She understood he was on board with the idea when he gave a shallow nod of the head. She reached out and ruffled his hair, much to his annoyance. It felt like a natural motherly thing to do, but then again she was still learning.

It was hard to imagine being a mother to this boy, having known him less than a week, but she at least wanted to make sure he was happy and safe.

"Promise me you'll be careful around him. He's as powerful as the Evil Queen in this town," Henry warned. _The Evil Queen...otherwise known as Regina Mills, _Emma translated in her head. _The woman who cast a curse over this town. The woman I'm supposed to defeat. Right. _

"Promise," she said. Emma never made promises often in this world, but when she did, she strived not to break them.

...

It was a slow day in the shop, but then again it was a slow day whenever someone didn't immediately owe him rent or need to make a desperate deal. He didn't even know why his false persona insisted on flipping the sign on the door to _Open. _It was rare if someone passed through it. If they were desperate enough to make a deal, he had his suspicions they would ignore the _Closed _sign anyway and barge right in. It certainly never kept Regina at bay.

When he got his true memories back-all thanks to his savior-he spent a good hour in his shop, revisiting old memories associated with the items in his shop. The glass baby mobile was meant to hang over Emma's crib, before she was sent to a land without magic via a magic wardrobe. The seven painted mugs lined on the display case belonged to the seven dwarfs loyal to Snow White. The lonely chipped cup...

That damned chipped cup...

That was a memory best left in the back of his mind. There was no sense in deliberately tearing open old wounds. Eventually he traversed the entire shop and surveyed every item. He could only stroll down Memory Lane so long without feeling his heart suffer for it.

His early morning breakfasts with Emma quickly became the highlight of his day. At first he was slightly apprehensive about answering her questions, especially since the deal required him to be honest, but with time he found himself opening up to her with increasing ease. So long as she didn't ask anything too personal, he would be fine emotionally.

It was a win-win situation: she would be able to satisfy her growing curiosity about him and he would be rewarded with the pleasure of her company. He would be lying through his teeth if he claimed he missed the mornings he spent drinking alone. She had given him the perfect opportunity to get to know her, to be near her in case anything...tragic happened.

He needed to be close to his savior until the time came for her to break the curse. It was clear she did not yet believe in it, no matter how many times the boy dangled the truth in front of her eyes. She only saw what she wanted to see.

He needed to guide her, to watch over her. He needed to protect her, as he did all his investments. She was the key to breaking this curse and finding Bae, after all. _Three centuries, not counting the twenty-eight years I spent with a false personality inhabiting my body. So close, yet so far away..._

The bell over his door chimed, interfering with his solemn thoughts. That was the signal that someone had entered his shop. He got up from his desk to investigate, limping toward the curtain that separated the back of the shop from the front.

What if it was Emma? She hadn't yet stepped foot in his shop, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. He began to quicken his steps, enduring the discomfort of his ankle as a result. When he reached the curtain, he paused. The footsteps beyond came in the form of heels clicking on the floorboards. Not the clomping of boots.

That meant it wasn't Emma. Emma didn't wear heels, as far as he knew. Every time he'd seen her, she wore battered brown knee-high boots, with laces that must take twenty minutes to tie. Not unlike the ones he was suited to wearing in the Enchanted Forest. His mind supplied the next possible candidate. It wasn't hard since he already collected this month's rent.

Ugh. Regina.

Maybe if he crept back to his desk and ignored the mayor's presence in his shop, she would leave.

"Gold, I know you're here. I can see your silhouette through the curtain," her grating voice called out. She didn't sound too close, which meant she was sticking her fingers all over his antiques and display cases.

He stared at the curtain, wondering if she could really see his silhouette or if she was only taking a wild guess as to his whereabouts. That was what he got for having the light on in the back of the shop. Cursing under his breath, he shoved aside the curtain and stepped into view. _Note to self: hang a thicker curtain. _

"Madame Mayor," he greeted coldly. He proudly positioned himself behind the front counter, setting aside his cane in order to place his palms flat upon the smooth surface. It served as a barrier between him and Regina. "How can I possibly help you today? Need another child?"

He recalled the way she burst into his shop ten years ago, requesting his help with getting a child. Back then, he had the wool pulled over his eyes in the shape of Mr. Gold. It seemed fate had worked in his favor since that boy had brought their savior to Storybrooke.

Regina openly cringed.

"I can't imagine what woman in her right mind would want to have _your _child," she shot back.

So she remembered his quip. _Still not interested, _he thought wryly. He watched her take a careful step toward one of the display cases. Her finger reached out to flick one of the glass unicorns hanging from the baby mobile. The unicorn clinked against the others and sparkled in the dim light of the shop.

"Rumor has it that you treated our guest to breakfast," she said rather calmly. He knew she was trying to wheedle information out of him. He smirked at her use of the word _guest. _Guest implied temporary stay. She spun on her heel to confront him head-on. "That would be ridiculous since you never bother with anyone in this town beyond the monthly rent. Oh, but wait..."

She slapped something down on the counter, right in front of his face. The headlines were difficult to ignore, previously hidden behind her back. He could not help but enjoy the way the rumor mill worked in this town. Judging solely from the picture, it looked like he and Emma Swan were in love.

As if that would ever happen. As if he would be that fortunate.

"I'm making an effort to branch out," he replied with a small shrug of the shoulders. He disregarded the paper and the headlines that everyone in Storybrooke had imprinted in their cursed brains. "Or perhaps I am welcoming her to the town. Extending the warm welcome our own mayor failed to bestow on her."

Regina's jaw set. He could feel the temperature in the room begin to build, fueled by her impending rage.

"I did welcome her into town," she cried defensively. "And then I promptly asked her to get the hell out of it." The corners of his lips curled. _Of course you did, Your Majesty, _he thought, devouring her anxiety like the sweetest cream. _If you had your way, you'd put her under a sleeping curse just like her mother. Problem solved. _

It was a good thing, then, that she had no magic available to her. If they had magic, he would have already mended this old limp in his leg. It was nothing but a weakness and a reminder of simpler days before his whole existence went to hell.

"I suppose you had something to do with this," he accused, jabbing a finger at the photo of him and Emma. How could she not? The Mayor had her hands in everything. That idiot Sidney was little more than her pet, along with Sheriff Graham. If she ordered Sidney to play a game of chicken with oncoming traffic, he would do so without questioning his loyalty.

The way her spine stiffened and her brows knitted together confirmed it. Of course, it was just like Regina to think she was fooling the world, when in fact she was fooling no one at all.

"I never gave him the command to take that photo, if that's what you're insinuating. Believe it or not, Sidney Glass is capable of thinking for himself," she growled. He had to press his lips together to keep from bursting with one of his trademark giggles. "When he showed that picture to me, I agreed with his idea to print it. I figured the town deserved to be aware of this newcomer and the company she prefers to keep."

Her dark eyes roved over his body. Instead of squirming like most people, he let her look. He even leaned back from the counter to offer her a better view, which only disgusted her more.

"Careful. That head of yours is becoming too big for your own good," he lilted, clucking his tongue at her. He fixed her with a piercing look and decided it was her turn to squirm. "Do you honestly believe the people of this town will rally alongside you as you gleefully tear Miss Swan to shreds? Do you think little Henry will run home to his mommy, who truly isn't his mommy at all, and cry stranger danger?"

For an instant, he glimpsed the truth in her eyes. That anger boiled down to misery and longing. Henry would never be hers so long as Emma roamed Storybrooke, enchanting him with her very presence. Even though she cast the curse, the people of this town would never be hers, either. They would be as quick to condemn her as they did in the Enchanted Forest. Deep down, she knew it.

"No matter what you do, no matter how many lies you print," he continued, turning over the paper. "The people of this town will never trust you, Regina. You and I are as much the outsiders as Emma Swan."

The walls went back up and Regina's fury snapped back into place. She strode up to the counter and leaned over it, challenging him face-to-face.

"Never compare me to that wretched woman again," she demanded, baring her teeth. "What exactly do you two discuss over breakfast?"

Ah, the heart of the matter. Finally. He intended to keep his conversations with Emma-and his true purpose for needing the savior-a secret. Let Regina's imagination run wild.

"Why so curious? Have your ears been burning lately, Regina?" She reared back from the counter as if it had scalded her. He watched her shift her head and swore she was trying to make her dark hair cover her ears. All humor vanished from his demeanor-all he had in store for her now was distaste. "What I discuss with Emma Swan over morning coffee is my business. Not yours."

"Everything in this town is my business," she declared hotly. "You can't keep secrets from me, Gold. One way or another, I will find out what you're planning." With that final threat, she stormed to the door. He wasn't sorry to see her go. When she left, she slammed the door hard enough to nearly break the bell.

_By all means, Your Majesty...try. _It was a riveting game of chess they were playing and he was determined not to lose.

...

Later on that night, shortly before his usual closing time, he returned to the back room of his shop and wrote furiously in an old, black leather journal taken from his desk. Currently, he was marking down several questions he intended to ask Emma, assuming she ever ran out of questions to ask him. From the way she fired them off without thinking, that wouldn't be hard. The task of writing them down would help him not to forget them.

_Would you do us all a favor and punch Regina in the face? When did you develop a taste in leather? Is your hair naturally curly? If you were to live in a castle, hypothetically speaking, which would you prefer: a castle by the water or a castle in the mountains? Who is Henry's father-_

An unexpected rumble passed under his feet. The desk wobbled, the antiques crowding the shelves quivered, and his pen skidded across the page. A sharp trail of ink stretched from the last word he'd written, but he did not pay it any mind. The minor earthquake lasted only a few seconds and then the shop was still.

That was odd.

Storybrooke had never been faced with an earthquake before. From sunrise to sunset, it was a world that never changed. That could only mean one thing, inevitably bringing new excitement to every bone in his body. Either Regina had finally gone off the deep end with her rage and self-destructed, or...

...or his savior was well on her way to changing things in Storybrooke.

...

_**I'm having a lot of fun writing this story so far. I hope everyone is enjoying it as well. I would like to take a moment to thank all those that reviewed: orthankg1, Mistra Rose, Shizuku Tsukishima749, beverlie4055, and 1994omi. **_


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, when Emma Swan entered the diner for breakfast, she was emotionally exhausted. The day before had been nothing short of a nightmare, starting with the alarming call from the Mayor that Henry was missing and ending with her descent into a sinkhole to save him.

It didn't help that the newspaper featured it in the headlines: _Mayor's Son Saved from Sinkhole! _Unbelievably, the only picture associated with it was of Regina embracing Henry near the sinkhole, her expression one of obvious relief. Emma wasn't in the picture at all. _Figures, _she thought bitterly. _The Mayor wouldn't risk painting a hero out of the unwelcome stranger in town. _

She didn't know which she was more likely to avoid: the headlines about Henry's adventure in the sinkhole or the headlines about her breakfast with Gold.

Speaking of Gold...

Her pulse quickened when she saw that he was already there, seated alone at an empty table near the door, a hot cup of tea on the table. The seat opposite him awaited her arrival. Each day, they met around eight o'clock for breakfast.

Was she somehow running late? Had she accidentally hit the snooze button? _I'm late for a very important...date, _the familiar quote from _Alice in Wonderland _flowed through her mind as she approached the table, all eyes on her. Henry's fascination with fairy tales was starting to get to her. _Except this isn't a date! It's...an arranged meeting between two people. Strictly business. _

Those headlines haunted her again. Gold had the town paper open, his brown eyes scrolling over some article in the middle while the teacup hovered beneath his chin. His piercing eyes locked with hers as she took her seat and shrugged off her jacket.

She had a feeling Gold could watch her all day long, the wheels turning in his head, and never grow bored.

"Please tell me there isn't a page dedicated to...us." She angled her head toward the paper, mostly in hopes of deflecting his attention from her face. Whenever he looked at her that way, almost without blinking, it felt like she was the only person in this diner with him. It was both flattering and unnerving.

For a brief instant, his gaze flickered back down to the article she could not see. He set the cup of tea on the table and folded up the paper. Leaving it in the corner, he returned to her. Only her.

"Not at the moment. I believe they're waiting for our first public kiss."

Emma found it to be a struggle not to look at his mouth. She gave in and looked at the exact moment that his tongue grazed his top lip. The tension between them was too much for her to handle-so she changed the subject.

The last thing she needed to think about, on top of Henry and the sinkhole, was the act of kissing Gold in the middle of Granny's Diner.

"Sorry if I'm late," she said, glancing up at the illuminated, lightning-blue clock above the bar. That was odd. She wasn't any later than she usually was.

"You're not," he confirmed her thoughts. "You're right on time. It turns out I already put in our order."

Emma's eyes widened slightly.

"_Our _order?" She couldn't say she appreciated Gold ordering for her. Just because she was having breakfast with him didn't mean he was free to decide her meal for the day. She wasn't his girlfriend-she didn't need his input on her food choices.

She also wondered how he managed to pull it off with Ruby giving him a stony look. _A threat to up the rent, maybe? _

Gold held up a hand to calm her.

"Relax, Miss Swan. This will be a one-time thing. A surprise of sorts and a chance for me to see if I know your tastes," he explained. Emma settled back in her seat. Oh. That didn't sound so bad. Perhaps she jumped the gun on that one. "I shall disregard that question due to your blatant surprise."

How generous of him.

That word wasn't even in the first one thousand that these people used to describe a man like Gold. It seemed he only made exceptions for her. _What did I do to deserve such special treatment? _

"Suppose I don't enjoy what you've ordered for me," she said. She couldn't just be grateful for the offer of breakfast-she was the type that pushed to the limit. If it irked him, nothing in his mannerisms showed it.

"If you do not enjoy this meal, I will courteously pay for your breakfast for a week." Emma shifted in her seat, unsure about any hidden fees. It was becoming easier for Gold to read her. "You won't owe me for that week of breakfast. You owe me one favor. That is all I need from you."

Emma had to wonder why he needed that favor so badly, but it was a question she wasn't ready to ask. She didn't want to know what that favor entailed just yet. For some reason, she didn't like the emphasis he put on that favor. His choice of words made it sound like he would cash in on the favor and want nothing to do with her afterwards. She may be a shining star in his eyes, but soon she would fall. She was disposable.

"All you need is the favor I owe you. The end, no questions asked." The corner of his mouth pulled into an impish grin and a glint appeared in his eye.

"Unless, of course, there is something _you _need. If that day comes, I will be willing to provide my services."

She refrained from asking what type of services he had in mind. For all his remarks about any implied intimacy with her, the word _if _stood out like a sore thumb. Further proof that he didn't place much stock in any future ties with her.

"I will always have time to spare for you, Emma," he assured her. _Will you? _She suddenly wasn't so confident. It seemed he was the type to spare his time only when it benefitted his interests. _Better enjoy this while it lasts. _

Ruby delivered their food, stopping to extend Emma a friendly greeting before she left to attend to other customers. It was also the first time the waitress prompted Emma to "let her know if the meal was to her liking." Apparently, Ruby wasn't convinced of Gold's ability to place her order.

Emma eyed the food on her plate with instant pleasure, her belly growling under the table. Gold had called it a surprise and he had been right.

"Tacos," she said with a hint of excitement. He must have gotten the idea from seeing her eat French fries for breakfast. There were two tacos on each plate, but they were big enough to fill her up. Emma picked up the first one to see that it was filled with...oh, my.

"Not just any tacos. Breakfast tacos," Gold corrected, scooping his own taco into his hands. He took a small bite from the end and dabbed his lips with a napkin. The tacos were filled with an assortment of breakfast delicacies-egg and bacon, mainly.

She took a grand bite out of her first taco. The moan that escaped her throat mid-chew was a sign of her intense satisfaction.

"I take it you approve," he hinted.

"You don't have to pay for my breakfast for a week," she stated. At least she had the decency to swallow her mouthful of food before speaking. He snapped his fingers, as if to say _oh, darn. _As if it was truly a shame he didn't have to spend an ounce of his fortune on her. "Thank you for this. I definitely needed it after the scare I had yesterday. You probably heard about it."

Gold was halfway through his first taco, but he gingerly replaced it on the plate. Once more, he dabbed his lips, though she swore there wasn't a single speck of food or grease to dirty his lips. His expression contorted with pity.

"Yes, I heard about your boy's near-grim fate in the sinkhole," he said, and tapped the paper that had been discarded in the corner. Right. Stupid headlines. "I didn't want to bring it up in case it upset you. I'm sorry I was not there to see him safely returned to your arms."

It sounded like he meant it.

"Yeah, I'm sure your shop is far more eventful than a young boy getting stuck in a sinkhole." It was more of a tease than a taunt. Sheer amusement rippled over his face and the taco almost fell out of his hands when he started to pick it up again.

"Was that a quip I detected?" It was too difficult to fight off the smile.

"Maybe."

It was one of those rare instances when a true smile graced Gold's face. No impish demeanor, no cunning looks, no ulterior motives or the irritating _I-know-something-you-don't-know_...just amazement. He looked almost dazed. Emma thought the childish wonder suited him and made him even more handsome.

"You were very brave for the way you saved your son," he offered the compliment when she was halfway finished with her final taco. "It's a shame there is no mention of your heroic feat in today's headlines."

Emma glared at the newspaper on the table. There was no way Regina didn't have her hands in that. _The Mayor has her hands in everything. _That was what Graham told her when he arrested her for the apparent theft of Henry's confidential therapy files. Even after she saved Henry yesterday, Regina had kicked her away like an unwanted dog. _So much for gratitude. _

"Thanks," she replied half-heartedly. "I was...I was afraid for him."

She didn't know what caused the chip in her walls, but it felt good to be able to tell someone how shaken she was over the whole ordeal. When Mary Margaret got home after a day with David Nolan, she had suffocated Emma in a bear hug and repeatedly asked if Henry was alright. It was like the worried nature of a parent, so Emma assured her that everything was fine, end of discussion.

But now...Emma felt relieved. During the time that Henry was stuck down there, beyond her reach, she had sincerely feared losing him.

"Of course you were," Gold said, bobbing his head. "He's your son. The very thought of losing him should warrant no sleep." There was too much grief attached to his words.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," she pointed out. There was that far-off look in his eye again, like he was revisiting an old, sore memory.

"Like you, I have witnessed too much of the world. Let's just say...I'm no stranger to its cruelty." Their discussion had taken a turn for the worse. And by worse, she meant miserable. It was time for a more positive topic.

"Time for my first question of the day," she announced. She devoured the last bite of her taco and licked the grease off her fingers. He perked up in his seat, appearing grateful for the shift in conversation. "This one I have been meaning to ask you for some time. Do you own a single pair of jeans?"

He responded with a snicker, though she was being dead serious. It hadn't been that long since she met him, but she never once caught him in anything so casual as blue jeans. If she did, she might not recognize him.

"Currently, no," he answered plainly. He did not add anything else. If she wanted to know if he _ever _owned something so casual, she would have to ask. Unfortunately, she already had her three questions picked out.

_Question two..._

"Do you have any hidden tattoos?" Her green eyes roved over his shoulders and chest, wondering if there was some impressive ink woven into his skin. That was another detail she could not picture on Gold.

"If I did, you would be the first person in this town to see," he said with a suggestive wink. "No, I have no tattoos, hidden or otherwise. I never saw the appeal of sticking needles in my skin and permanently bearing a mark via ink on my body. You, on the other hand..."

Before she could prevent it from happening, he reached over the table and gently caught her wrist. He turned it over until the inside of her wrist was facing up. There, peeking out from under the thin sleeve of her white shirt, was her one and only tattoo. No one else had noticed it because of her habit of wearing jackets.

"I trust there is some significance to this particular tattoo. Have I earned that story, Miss Swan?"

His skillful fingers traced over the tattoo of the flower on her wrist. It was very distracting. Normally, any prying into her past would cause the alarms to go off and the walls to go up, but she chewed on the inside of her cheek indecisively.

It was the least she could do for the breakfast tacos.

"It's a forget-me-not," she started, her mind instantly flashing back to the moment ten years ago when she got it. "It served as a reminder to never forget the love I felt for the man I was with at the time. They say forget-me-nots sometimes stand for true love. I thought I had it then, but I was wrong. Now it only reminds me that there's no such thing."

She pulled her hand back from his fingers, buried it in her lap. Gold's hand fell to the table before he recoiled to his own side of the table. His mouth parted and closed, as if he wanted to say something. Surely a man who walked this world alone could not vouch for the existence of true love?

Or did he agree?

He let it go.

_Question three, _Emma thought when her mind had cleared of those terrible memories.

"What about that pink house of yours?" He winced slightly at the mention of it being pink. "No, wait, let me guess: a wife that you adored so much you couldn't say no to her dream house."

Had the infamous dealmaker ever been married? Emma doubted he had been alone all his life, even if true love didn't exist. He dropped his eyes to the table and appeared to force a lump down his throat.

"I wish it were that simple of an explanation. On the contrary, my ex-wife abhorred the color pink, even if it was in the form of a flower on our anniversary. The house was part of a deal I thought was beneficial."

"You had a wife," she repeated, stunned. Why hadn't Ruby mentioned that? Or did she not know?

"Once upon a time," Gold agreed with a weak shrug. "Is it so bizarre to imagine that a man like me could love and be loved? Or do you, like so many around you, consider me the beast?"

Emma gave him a long, hard look. No, it wasn't bizarre. She could easily imagine how a woman might fall for someone like Gold, if his reputation didn't compromise it. He was cold to many, but he knew how to act like a gentleman when it counted. He was well-dressed, never wore too much cologne, had a way with words that most men couldn't grasp, and had plenty of money for those select few that were drawn to his wealth more than his character.

"No," she admitted. There was a question in his eyes-_really?-_as if he hadn't been holding out hope for such an answer. "It must have been a loveless marriage, from the way you tell it."

His fingers fidgeted with the corner of the newspaper. She sensed they were heading into dangerous waters again.

"I loved her for a long time. She did not love me as I thought she did. It's an old, bitter tale and I have no motivation to rip open old wounds."

The pain in his voice was evident. Emma didn't feel comfortable when people pried into her past, so she didn't pry too much into his. _I don't want to talk about it _screamed from his body language, which was tense and guarded.

"Got it," she said.

"What about Henry's father?" The question slammed into her chest, sending her heart into a frenzy. She whistled lowly between her lips.

"Talk about ripping open old wounds," she warned. He batted his eyelids guiltily, but did not retract the question. Emma's fingers tugged the sleeve of her shirt over the tattoo on her wrist.

What did she have to lose? Besides a night of sleep?

"I haven't had an easy life. I don't think easy is even in my vocabulary. From the moment I was born, I was alone. My parents abandoned me on the side of a road-they couldn't even bother to leave me at the nearest hospital or house. I've bounced from foster home to foster home, but each one sent me back. The one time I thought I found a home was in my first foster home and they sent me back when I was three because they were going to have a child of their own. When I was eighteen, I was on the streets, stealing and squatting just to get by. I met a guy that was in the same boat-running without anywhere to go. We stuck together for a while and I fell in love with him. Then he set me up to take the fall for a bunch of stolen watches and next thing I knew, I was giving birth to my kid in jail. The end of another chapter in my life."

Gold folded his hands in front of his lips. He was quiet and thoughtful for a long time. When he finally spoke, only two words fell from his tongue.

"I'm sorry."

Emma kept her hands hidden beneath the table because she was afraid he would see how badly they were shaking. She had never told anyone that much about herself, not even Mary Margaret. She didn't need his condolences, but it felt good to hear it all the same.

"Yeah. Me, too."

...

After hearing Emma recount the sad events of her life thus far, Gold found he had no words to explain what he was thinking. Even if he did, it was highly unlikely that she would take it lightly. All he could do was shield his deepening frown behind his hands until he gathered his thoughts.

It was difficult to chip Emma's walls, but not impossible as he'd originally anticipated. This latest revelation on her part proved that. Very briefly, he had glimpsed the core of her heart beneath her hard exterior. What he saw was a vulnerable young woman who had been dealt a poor hand by fate. A woman who was searching for the place she belonged without any concrete hope of finding it.

His thoughts began to take a darker turn.

Until this point, he never came face-to-face with the consequences the curse had on his savior. Selfishly, all he cared for was getting his son back-he held no regard for the lives he tore apart to make that happen.

Now she was sitting across the table from him and the only thing rolling around in his head was how he was responsible for ruining her life. If it weren't for his curse, she would have grown up a beautiful, golden princess basking away in a majestic castle by the sea. There would be balls to attend, suitors to consider, but more importantly, she would have everything that was currently missing in her life, including a stable home.

But he had chosen to find his son and this was part of the price.

If she knew, if she believed it, there would be no chance of earning her forgiveness. It wasn't fair to her, but what was done was done, and he still needed her to find his son. So all he said was: "I'm sorry." If all else failed, she would know he was remorseful.

"Yeah. Me, too."

It was obvious from the way she so easily dismissed his apology that she chalked it up to polite condolences. What she would never understand-at least not yet-was that he was finally offering an apology for being the reason she was unhappy in the first place.

...

_**The reason I didn't include this breakfast scene in the last chapter was because I felt it would be too long. There was a lot of detail I wanted to uncover with these two during this scene, and so I devoted this chapter to their breakfast together. I hope everyone enjoyed reading it. **_

_**I would like to give shout-outs to those who kindly reviewed recently: Loki Holmes, Lyn Harkeran, Mistra Rose, orthankg1, AnnaDruvez, SakuraBlossom58, deathcab135, 1994omi, Shizuku Tsukishima749, and beverlie4055. Thank you all for the support. **_


	5. Chapter 5

Emma had never been a girls' night out type of girl. It could have been because she never had many friends or money or a stable life that allowed her to spend a decent night out. She definitely didn't want to be the girl that brought home the first decidedly male organism that happened to look her way. She wasn't that desperate for company and a one-night stand wouldn't do anything to quell her loneliness.

Thankfully, Mary Margaret wasn't very big on the idea of a girls' night out, either. They opted to stay inside for the night with some takeout from Granny's. For Emma, it was a tasty BLT with a side of pickles and fries. For Mary Margaret, it was a bowl of angel-hair pasta sprinkled with parmesan cheese and two warm slices of garlic bread.

Emma thought it was nice to be able to relax in Mary Margaret's comfortable apartment and get to know the woman that had been nothing but kind to her since she arrived in Storybrooke. She didn't even know why Mary Margaret insisted on being so generous to her-it was simply in her nature to do so.

She was still trying to get Henry's wild theory of fairy tale creatures out of her head. Specifically, she kept returning to the one where Mary Margaret was her long-lost mother with amnesia. It sounded like something out of a soap opera. There were times like these, though, where she didn't think about the possibility of Mary Margaret being her mother. Instead, Emma looked at Mary Margaret and saw someone she could genuinely be friends with, given the time and stability of a living environment.

She could really use a friend in this town. Someone to turn to for advice, someone to confide in, someone who wouldn't be quick to judge her when it counted most. Somehow. Emma didn't think making Gold her best friend would win her points among the residents.

"So, what exactly did you and David Nolan do while Henry was stuck in a sinkhole?" Emma bucked up the courage to ask before taking a gigantic bite out of her BLT. She never had one that was so mouth-watering before.

Despite her fascination with Granny's cooking, she didn't miss the pink blush rising in Mary Margaret's cheeks. The fork that was wedged into the pit of spaghetti was spinning fast, sinking in a spool of noodles.

"Well...I visited him in the hospital and we got to talking a bit. Nothing serious, just...whether anything was coming back to him. I may have suggested he try hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon. Taste and smell are two of the strongest factors for recovering a memory, after all. We played a game of hangman and I got hanged on my own name. Then we took a walk outside that afternoon. It was...nice."

Emma swallowed hard and she felt the lump of bacon, lettuce, and tomato travel all the way down her throat. _Oh, no, _she thought as Mary Margaret had recounted her day with David Nolan. _I know that look. _

She might not be an expert in love, but she could tell when someone was taking the plunge. Mary Margaret was falling fast. For one thing, she was staring too hard into that bowl of spaghetti. Not once had she looked up to gauge Emma's reaction while speaking. _She's falling and she knows it. _

"Sounds like you two will be inseparable tomorrow night," Emma hinted. "For your sake, I hope What's-Her-Name doesn't have a problem with it."

What's-Her-Name, otherwise known as David Nolan's blonde wife that had literally appeared out of thin air. _You'd think, in a town this size, she would know her husband was lying in a coma in the town's only hospital. Or you'd think the Mayor would be kind enough to tell her. _

The way Regina guarded this town and stalked among its residents, Emma wouldn't be surprised if she knew every last person in it. How would she miss a detail so crucial as John Doe possibly having a wife in town?

"Kathryn," Mary Margaret supplied the name, with a touch of sorrow if Emma's ears were working correctly. Finally, Mary Margaret glanced up from her bowl of spaghetti with a puzzled look on her face. "Remind me...what's tomorrow night?"

Emma was surprised it hadn't come up in her conversation with David.

"The wife...uh, Kathryn, is throwing a welcome-home party for David, remember? You are going, aren't you?"

The remembrance of the event flashed briefly through Mary Margaret's eyes, but the light dimmed a moment later. She quit stabbing her noodles with the fork, instead slurping them up loudly. Emma sensed her friend was stalling as she formed an answer.

"No, I don't think so," she said softly. Emma's eyebrows shot up. Mary Margaret noticed it and immediately went on the defensive. "He may have needed me when I found him near the river, but he doesn't need me there. He has..." Mary Margaret's already thin voice trailed off, a troubled frown pursing her pink lips.

"Kathryn," Emma finished for her. Mary Margaret nodded.

"Kathryn." This time, it was impossible to mistake the mournful tone. _Oh, yes, she's free-falling as we speak. I only hope she doesn't crash on the ground. _

In all honesty, Emma felt sorry for her new friend. Mary Margaret knew it wasn't beneficial, but she couldn't help the way she felt toward David. Perhaps she felt some connection or responsibility for him after saving his life, but she kept getting drawn to him. It was a sticky situation-someone was bound to get hurt and Emma had a terrible feeling that person would be Mary Margaret.

"Sorry about that," Emma apologized. It might have been better if she didn't bring up David Nolan at all, especially if Mary Margaret was reminded that Kathryn would always separate her from him. Mary Margaret shrugged and the collar of her pink cardigan started to slip. She righted it and at the same time seemed to shrink inside it for protection.

"What's there to be sorry about? I'm sure he's very happy with her. He must be, if he's married to her." Emma recalled Gold's revelation of being married to a woman that didn't love him back. Just because two people decided to marry didn't mean it was entirely based on love or that it would work out in the end. "How is it going with you and Mr. Gold?"

_She must be a mind reader, _Emma thought cynically. She knew Mary Margaret wanted to get her mind off David Nolan, but now she had stuck Emma under the spotlight in her place.

"Nice change of subject. Once again, we are _not _dating," she protested loudly. The implication had been dripping from Mary Margaret's question like the ketchup that coated Emma's fries. Mary Margaret set her bowl down on the table and held up her hands, a sign she meant no harm.

"I never said you were!"

"You were thinking it," Emma countered. Mary Margaret didn't exactly agree, but she didn't outright deny the accusation as she lowered her hands.

"That's what everyone else in town believes. You explained it to me and I believe you. But the stuff I hear from Ruby..." _You mean, the town's main source of gossip? _"You know, he never makes physical contact with anyone in town?"

Emma plopped her sandwich down on the unfolded wrapper.

"I find that rumor hard to swallow. He's a dealmaker. You mean to tell me he hasn't shaken hands with anyone?"

"It isn't a rumor, Emma. Mr. Gold deals in contracts, not the shake of someone's hand. If it happens, it's very rare. Some of us in town, namely Dr. Hopper, actually started to think he was a germaphobe. But you..." Mary Margaret sucked up the spaghetti dangling from her fork and then pointed the silver utensil across the table at her. "When he first introduced himself to you, he shook hands with you right away; I saw it. Ruby said he touched your wrist and examined...a tattoo?"

Emma should have known that would get around town. She rolled up her sleeve to show Mary Margaret the tattoo of a forget-me-not on her arm. She didn't bother explaining the significance, only because she was afraid she would taint Mary Margaret's innocent outlook on love.

"Seems you know Mr. Gold better than any of us. That's impressive, considering it's only been a week. Most of us have known him as long as we can remember and no one is even on a first name basis with him." Technically, neither was she. _I wonder what his first name is. I'll have to remember to ask him tomorrow. _

"I feel so special," she deadpanned. Mary Margaret looked over at her with new concern. Now that she was done with her pasta, she pushed the bowl away and tucked her knees up to her chest on the chair. It made her look like a small, doe-eyed child.

"What does Henry think about this?" _Promise me you'll be careful around him. _

"Henry is fine with it. I explained what was going on-you know, how we're _not _dating. He took it pretty well." Mary Margaret breathed out in relief. Emma had never seen a teacher that was so connected with her students on an emotional level or was so concerned about one child's wellbeing.

"That's good. I still stand by what I said about you being careful. Henry already has Regina to deal with."

Emma's teeth crunched down on a strip of bacon. Like she needed to be reminded of Henry's less=than-healthy home environemnt or the responsibility she would face if she rescued him from it. That was on her mind at least once a day now.

"Yes, Mom," she moaned sarcastically. Mary Margaret looked stunned, but then broke into a timid laugh. "Now may I finish my BLT without any mention of the complicated relationships we have with the men in this town?" The only problem was, Emma's appetite had flown out the window. That was what stress usually did to her.

"No one's stopping you," Mary Margaret said. "At least you haven't reached Ruby's record with the men in this town." Emma had to make sure she swallowed the fry she had just popped in her mouth before being rude and laughing with her mouth full.

"From what I heard, no one will."

...

Gold tended to arrive at Granny's Diner five minutes before eight nowadays. It wasn't polite to keep a lady waiting. So he chose an empty table, never one in the center. The two of them had earned enough interest from the citizens of Storybrooke. They didn't need to encourage it by sitting in the center of the diner.

While waiting for his breakfast partner to arrive, he ordered a drink from Ruby. Only once did he give in to his craving for a soothing cup of tea. He needed to be careful not to make anyone, especially Regina, suspicious. Above all, he needed to keep up appearances. That meant drinking coffee, as per Mr. Gold's usual taste. One of the few benefits of the curse was that he never had to give specific details to Ruby about what to make. All he had to say was "the usual" and Ruby would have it in front of him in no time.

That's what happened when the people of this town lived in a timeless bubble. Nothing ever changed. Or at least, nothing ever changed before Emma began to poke that bubble with a sharpening needle.

Gold's attention drifted to the window and the lack of activity beyond it. It was better than confronting the swarm of stares and potentially frightening the citizens of this town. Though, his impish nature resurfaced a tiny bit when he thought about how fun that might be. He sipped his coffee, which tasted like he was swallowing heated mud.

He heard it when someone slipped into the booth. No one in this town could successfully sneak up on him. It could only be Emma, though her footsteps had been noticeably quieter. That should have tipped him off about something different, but perhaps she was legitimately trying to get the jump on him. Emma struck him as the type that accepted a challenge.

"How is the day treating you so far? Better than yesterday?" Hopefully, she hadn't been subjected to any more emotional scares from Henry or Regina. However, the fact that Emma had been scared was a good sign. It meant she had formed an attachment to the boy. It meant she had a reason to stay.

Their deal concerning breakfast wouldn't be enough to hold Emma back if she really desired to leave.

"It's not bad," came the shy reply. "I've learned to stay away from sinkholes." Gold nearly choked on his coffee. That wasn't anywhere close to the voice he was expecting to hear. When he looked to the seat directly across from him, where Emma was supposed to be, instead there was Henry.

Emma's cockiness must have rubbed off on the boy.

"You're not Emma," he stated. Too small in height, too dark of hair, too squeaky of voice, and wrong gender altogether.

"You catch on fast," Henry said. Gold didn't bother scanning the crowd for Emma. He knew Henry was perfectly capable of navigating the town on his own, once he managed to wiggle free of Regina's deathly grip. There must be a reason for him popping up so unexpectedly, no doubt connected to the curse. Gold decided to humor him.

"Your mother will be here any minute," he warned. Since it was a weekday, he didn't think Emma would be too pleased to discover Henry skipping school. She was trying to be a good influence on him, despite what Regina thought. _Since I'm not his father...since I'm interested to see how his mind works..._"What shall we discuss until she arrives?"

Granny crossed the room and placed a hot mug of cocoa in front of Henry. It was his usual, along with Mary Margaret's. Henry feigned interest in scooping up a cloud of whipped cream on his finger, but Gold saw through the ruse. He was waiting for Granny to move on before speaking.

"How about if we start with your name? What is it?"

Something clicked in Gold's mind. _He has no idea who I really am, _he realized. How could that possibly be when he was a key component to so many of the stories in that book of his? The book must not mention him by name.

He debated on sharing his secret with Henry. His secret of being awake. It was tempting to have someone know the truth, someone who would believe it. In the end, he discarded the idea. He could not risk Regina putting two and two together. She would make his life more of a living hell than it already was. And if she ever learned of Emma's importance to this town...to the curse...killing Emma Swan would be another way to break the curse, but he refused to let Regina have that victory. It would take away her so-called happy ending, but Regina never usually thought that far ahead.

So he would play dumb.

"How long have you known me? It's Mr. Gold, of course," he replied casually. Not a hint of a tremor or pause to betray the truth. Yet, Henry didn't look entirely convinced.

"I meant, what's your real name?" The knot of his tie felt too tight at the base of his throat. Did Henry already know that he was awake? Was there something in his eyes, some tell-tale light that gave it away or was he simply grasping at straws?

"That is the only name I've had in this world, Henry. Unless you mean my first name. It's Robert." As far as he knew, Regina had never given Gold a first name, so he picked one out on the spot. He half-expected her to keep it Rumpelstiltskin, if only for savoring the ridiculous clashing of his two names.

_Robert Gold..._That had a ring to it.

Speaking of ring, he distinctly heard the bell above the diner's entrance jingle as someone walked in. When he allowed his gaze to wander to the newest customer, he found the most marvelous sight.

Spirals of molten gold and two emeralds on fire.

...

"What are you doing?"

Emma had come into the diner and sought out Gold's table, only to find that someone was already sitting in her seat. Henry. He tried to look innocent, but this had Operation Cobra written all over it. Why else would Henry strike up a conversation with Gold after warning her so heavily about him?

"Um...I'm...drinking hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon and keeping Mr. Gold company," Henry scrambled for an excuse. She wasn't so sure about that last part, but her eyes were drawn to the mug in front of Henry. _Must be a family thing. _

"Yeah, I can see that. You're supposed to be in school. See, this is why I offered to walk you to the bus stop in the morning. Having your mother tell you to go to school obviously isn't enough."

When Regina heard about this, she would find some way to pin it on Emma. As if Henry obeyed her every command before Emma stepped foot on Storybrooke soil. The only reason she met the kid ten years after his birth was because he stole Mary Margaret's credit card, found out where she lived, and hopped on a bus to Boston. Ah, yes, she could see the halo glowing above his head right now.

"He never skipped so much school... until he found a new object of interest worth his time," Gold interjected.

Emma had been focusing solely on Henry in hopes that Gold would not be included in this conversation. Clearly, the man would have his say one way or another. She turned her fiery eyes on him.

"That sounds like an accusation."

"Observation," he corrected. "It's obvious to me that Henry only wants to spend time with you and to get to know his real mother. Would it be such a crime, Deputy Swan, to give him that golden opportunity? Consider this: you might benefit from some bonding as well."

Emma released a pent-up breath through her nose and thought it over carefully. She weighed the pros and cons until her brain hurt-_have breakfast with Henry, suffer Regina's wrath. _There was truth to Gold's words. She would like the chance to spend time with the kid and to know him.

"Since I'm here and I'm already late, can I at least finish the hot chocolate?" Henry pressed her and oh, God, not the puppy eyes. Emma's defiance crumbled swiftly.

"The second you're done with that drink, I'm taking you to school. By that, I mean I'm escorting you to your seat in Mary Margaret's classroom." Henry nodded enthusiastically and slid over to allow her some room inside the booth. He quietly sipped his drink. It would be just like him to drink it as slowly as possible. Emma had a feeling she wouldn't be able to whisk him away so soon. After all, she still had her questions of the day for Gold.

"What shall we order today? Since Henry has decided to join us, it'll be my treat," Gold inquired, flashing a charming smile at the boy. Henry brought out his fairy tale book and pretended to be fascinated with it. _So, he's still not comfortable around Gold, _Emma thought. _Or is he doing research? _

One particular item on the menu caught her eye. It was too delicious to pass up. _Has Regina even allowed Henry to try it? _

"Since you chose the breakfast meal last time, I'm choosing this one," Emma boldly declared. When Ruby came over to take their order, in an attempt to keep her choice a secret, Emma wordlessly pointed to it on the menu. Ruby's tongue ran across her cherry-red lips as a result, but she reserved a look of dread for Gold's suit and tie.

"What did you order?" Gold demanded to know. He flipped through the list of breakfast choices in the menu, but it was impossible to pinpoint the one Emma had selected.

"You'll see," she said with a teasing smile. Gold scowled at her cryptic manner and tucked the menu behind the napkin dispenser once more. _What? You can dish it, but you can't take it? Time for a taste of your own medicine. _As much as being in the dark bothered him, Gold would have to wait to see what Emma had in store.

"So, Mr. Gold, what do you think of David Nolan?" Henry picked up his head from his book. _The interrogation begins, _Emma realized. _Though, I don't see what David Nolan has to do with it. _

Gold hadn't been prepared to be put on the spot so abruptly. For one moment, he drew a blank, unable to form a reasonable answer.

"He...has...nice hair," he offered. Emma's brows knitted together in confusion. _That's the best you can do? I take it you don't do so well under pressure, Gold. _Then again, only Kathryn, Mary Margaret, and Regina seemed to know anything about David Nolan other than his name. He was more of a walking mystery than even Gold. As for his hair..._It's not the worst I've seen, but Gold's is better. Not that I would ever tell him that. _

Henry glided on to the next question before Gold could be entirely confident in his last answer.

"What do you think of Emma?" Now both Gold and Emma stared at Henry in shock. _Kid, what are you doing? You're not supposed to be pushing us together! _Maybe it wasn't so much about intimacy, but what this so-called fairy tale character thought of the savior.

Emma lowered her eyes to the open menu in front of her. Heat rushed along her neck and she could feel Gold's eyes on her.

"Yes, her hair is nice, too," Gold said, cleverly misinterpreting Henry's question. The heat simmered. She patted her hair and wondered if it really looked nice or if Gold was only side-stepping the question.

"I've heard people say that everything you touch turns to gold. Being the richest man in town and all," Henry continued, showing no signs of backing down. This latest string of words baffled Emma. What exactly was Henry searching for? Gold frowned, not able to follow Henry's line of thinking, either.

"Who told you that?"

"Ruby." Henry tilted his head toward the bar where Ruby was arguing with Leroy about how many drinks he was allowed to have at one time. From the snippet Emma caught, Leroy wanted a whole row of drinks set in front of him, "just in case."

Henry opened his mouth to bombard Gold with another round of questions, but Emma stopped him with a light tug on his elbow.

"Excuse us," she said to Gold. Then she urged Henry to scoot out of the booth with her. They stepped outside, into the cool Maine air, and she felt it when Henry dug in his heels.

"I'm not finished with my hot chocolate yet," he protested, obviously panicking.

"I know. This has nothing to do with your drink or school. Why are you giving Gold such a lengthy interrogation? I'm the one that's supposed to be asking the questions here." Henry relaxed when he heard that he wasn't about to be escorted away. There was that mischievous spark in his eyes.

"I never made that deal with him, so I can ask him as many questions I want." Less than five minutes around Gold and already Henry was an expert at finding loopholes. It wasn't comforting. "You were the one that claimed we were gathering intel. I want to know who he is. I think he might be King Midas. His name fits..."

Henry flipped a page in the book that was balanced in his arms and halted when he found an illustration of a regal-looking man with a golden hand. Only this guy had a beard and looked to be of stronger, taller build than Gold.

"Nope, that's not him. Back to square one," Henry sighed and rapidly turned the pages without a clue of what he was looking for. "Do you know any fairy tale characters that are short, have a limp, possibly royal or powerful, and associated with gold?"

_Rumpelstiltskin spun straw into gold, s_he thought, remembering the dark tale she heard when she was younger. The Grimm fairy tales weren't exactly kid-friendly and the version she heard featured the devilish dealmaker being ripped in half. She clamped her teeth down on her tongue before the name could slip out. The last thing she wanted to do was fuel this fantasy.

"I know that if you don't get to school, Ms. Blanchard will hear all about it," she warned. After Henry's stunt with the trip to Boston, Mary Margaret was probably out of her mind with worry. Henry got the hint and slammed his book shut, hugging it to his chest.

"Speaking of Ms. Blanchard, have you noticed the way she and David Nolan look at each other?" Henry's eyebrows bobbed up and down.

"I know-you think they're my long-lost fairy tale parents torn apart by an evil, memory-zapping curse, but they're close to my age!" That automatically made Henry's theory too strange to consider.

"Because of the curse! They've been stuck that way for twenty-eight years, remember?"

"Name one thing I've inherited from them," she challenged. In her mind, nothing about her appearance or personality remotely resembled Mary Margaret or David Nolan. Or Snow White and Prince Charming, for that matter. Henry leaned up on his toes to study her face closely.

"You have her chin...and her eyes...and Charming's honor...and-"

"I said one!" Henry shrugged apologetically. She glanced over her shoulder at the diner's window, suddenly remembering that Gold was waiting for them to return. "No more questions about fairy tales. At least don't make it so obvious. Operation Cobra is supposed to be discreet."

Henry quietly agreed and he followed her back into the diner. Their meal was waiting for them on the table. Gold hardly looked pleased. He poked it with a fork and scrunched his nose as he tried to figure out the best way to eat it.

Cinnamon rolls. Hot, sticky cinnamon rolls oozing with white icing.

"Mmm," Henry moaned approvingly, smacking his lips together. He didn't hesitate to grab one of the rolls, pinching it between two of his fingers. He inhaled it in three bites and licked the sticky sweetness off his fingers. Gold's gaze flew from Henry to the cinnamon rolls, all at once understanding how he was expected to eat it.

"This doesn't seem like a fair trade," Gold said. He was still gaping at the cinnamon rolls as if Emma had ordered a plate of snails instead. She thought he might like it, if he brought himself to try one.

"Time to step out of your comfort zone," she said, taking the cinnamon roll that was closest to her on the plate. A thin stream of melted icing drizzled from the roll. Emma caught it on the tip of her finger and licked it off.

Gold struggled to follow her example. He touched one of the rolls and jerked away as if he had been burned. A white drop of icing covered his finger and he had no choice but to lap it up with his tongue. He unfolded one napkin on the table, two on his lap, and looked to be debating on tying one around his neck.

Finally, he got up the nerve to take a thick, warm roll from the plate and munch down on it before he could change his mind. A few specks of cinnamon dusted his lips, but he rubbed it off with a napkin.

"The result is worth the trouble," he said after swallowing the morsel in his mouth. Emma waited for him to speak plainly. "It's surprisingly delicious."

As proof, he devoured the roll. Afterwards, he rubbed his fingers together like he was requesting money, irked by the stickiness that clung to his fingertips. Emma and Henry had no problem polishing off the rest. When they settled back in their seats, their bellies were full and satisfied.

"Hey, Emma, didn't you say you had some questions you wanted to ask Mr. Gold?" Henry prodded. His curiosity rebounded twicefold now that he didn't have a plate of cinnamon rolls to serve as a distraction. She glanced at Gold, who was sucking the sticky substance off his fingers.

"Whenever you're ready, Emma," he implored, wiping his fingers dry with the napkin. He flexed his fingers and studied his manicured nails. It wasn't simply a means of checking for any remaining stickiness, but also a gesture to show he had all the time in the world. _I will always have time to spare for you, Emma, _he had said before.

"What's your first name?" Thankfully, she had remembered wanting to ask him that question when the morning came.

"Great minds think alike. Your boy already asked that question," Gold said, directing her attention to Henry.

"It's Robert," Henry answered. Emma thought she heard an unspoken _supposedly _tacked on at the end of that sentence. She didn't doubt it. Gold had sworn to tell her the truth. _Robert Gold. I like the sound of it. _

"You know, Kathryn Nolan is holding a small get-together for David Nolan tonight," she said, building up to her second question. She forced herself not to look down at Henry when he opened that book again. _Don't do it, kid, _she warned him silently, nudging his foot under the table.

"Yes, I heard," Gold said. "There's nothing this town enjoys more than celebrations." _Aside from the juicy rumors, you mean, _Emma added.

"Will I see you there?"

He hadn't given any indication of attending. She hoped it didn't sound like she was looking forward to seeing him there. It wasn't like she was going to be hanging out next to the punch bowl in hopes of spotting him in the crowd or meeting him for a drink. Henry nudged her foot. It was probably his way of reminding her not to get too close to Gold.

"Is that an invitation?" Emma's stomach did weird flips. She must have eaten one too many cinnamon rolls. "I'm not exactly the life of the party. In case you haven't noticed, I've made more enemies than friends. No one would want me there."

His brown eyes scrolled over her face, almost pleadingly. If he was expecting her to tell him that _she _wanted him there, he was about to be disappointed. What would the town say if she was caught mingling with Gold at a party? What would Henry say? After all, the kid was practically her tag-along for the night, now that Mary Margaret wasn't going.

"Mary Margaret doesn't feel up to it, either," she murmured. Gold had the audacity to smirk.

"Here I figured David Nolan's hero would receive a special invite."

If only he knew that Mary Margaret was determined to decline it in the first place. Emma remembered that look Mary Margaret had last night, the look that suggested she was in free-fall mode and her heart squeezed again for her friend.

"She may have saved his life, but they hardly know each other."

Henry flipped a page in his book. She saw it from the corner of her eye and felt her stomach drop when she recognized Snow White and Prince Charming wrapped in each other's arms at their wedding, wearing fearful expressions on their illustrated faces.

For a second time, she nudged him under the table, this time harder than before.

"That is _my _foot you're nudging," Gold told her and nudged back.

The color drained from her face. She leaned back and peered under the table. To her horror, Henry's feet were stretched out in front of him, almost reaching the other side of the booth without knocking Gold's cane over. An expensive shoe had aligned itself with hers, currently nudging her boot. _I've been playing footsie...with Gold? While I was asking him...about the party? _Emma's cheeks sizzled with a fresh wave of heat.

"Your final question?" Emma appreciated the chance to get her mind off the fact that she had engaged in a game of footsie under the table with Gold. Suddenly, she wanted to wipe that amused, clever little smirk off his face.

"Do you blow-dry your hair?" It looked way too silky and soft for any other treatment. Just as she anticipated, Gold's control slipped. All at once, he looked incredibly guilty and self-conscious. "I knew it." Emma grinned victoriously.

"Do you curl your hair?" She hadn't expected his counterattack. They vied for control of the conversation and Emma was having trouble grasping the reins.

"Yes," she admitted honestly. Not many people knew it about her or thought her to be the type to style her hair. The first time Mary Margaret woke early enough to catch her doing it, she was surprised. The reason she ever did it in the first place was because it transformed her into someone new in the mirror, after the murky situation with Henry's father. "It's the most feminine thing I've ever done for my appearance. I had straight hair when I was younger. I've considered going back to it."

"Don't," Gold immediately said. "You're..." He searched for the right word while Emma fretted over what he might say. _I'm...what? _"Beautiful."

...

From the minute Emma Swan sat down with Henry and Gold for breakfast, there were eyes on them. It seemed everyone in the diner was peeking over their menus and pausing between bites to watch that one particular table. It had become something of a morning show for the town. Ruby could swear the diner was getting busier each day simply because more people gathered to watch the show.

_You'd think these people would sink their teeth into something new by now, _the waitress thought, though she was guilty of the same crime. It was too surreal, too unnatural an occurrence in their daily routine. It demanded attention and more than once Ruby caught herself staring at their table while pouring coffee or taking an order.

It was just...so strange to behold.

The new girl and the creepiest guy in town. Who would have thought it? _I guess, if she's into that sort of thing. _

She would never admit it out loud to anyone, but no man in town wore suits or oozed appeal like Gold. There were plenty of women who were attracted to mysterious, dark men, but Gold was a whole other brand. He was cold, calculating, and cruel, a predator slinking among the sheep of this town. His reputation, at the very best, was dangerous and that alone convinced women to turn the other cheek.

It wasn't worth getting stuck in his web.

Even Ruby had tried to flirt with him once or twice, usually when the rent was almost due and there was a slight chance they wouldn't be able to raise the money. There wasn't even a hint of arousal or undoing in him. If anything, his eyes would cut deeper into her soul like two sharp diamonds and his threat of eviction would be even more menacing. Then he would walk away, off to terrorize the next unfortunate soul in his path.

Ruby had never been rejected before.

When was the last time he even had a woman? For as long as Ruby could remember, she'd never seen Gold fancy a single woman in town. She hadn't even seen one come and go from his house. He never purchased a temporary room at the inn for a secret rendezvous, never presented flowers to anyone special on Valentine's Day, never dined in public with a single human being. He was the definition of untouchable.

If Regina wasn't involved with Graham, which Ruby had known for a while now, she might assume the Mayor was the unlucky woman that warmed Gold's bed in the dead of the night. If she ever did, you would never tell by their behavior. Every time she saw those two cross paths, they fought like cats and dogs.

Emma was different.

Until these breakfast dates started, Ruby had never seen Gold smile, laugh, or exhibit interest in anyone. Hell, she never even saw him _touch _anyone before.

It was mindblowing when she saw him do all four in Emma's presence. It was like someone had taken Gold's place at that table-he was almost a changed man. He smiled along with whatever she was saying. Occasionally, he even chuckled. Ruby witnessed him touch Emma's wrist and expose a tattoo on her arm. Even more unbelievable, Emma hadn't yanked away.

_Who is this guy and what has he done with the coldhearted snake that makes us cower? _

Today, she couldn't bother to hide the fact that she was watching their table. Normally Granny would yell at her for slacking on the job, but she was pretending to clean her glasses while staring, the same as her granddaughter. Leroy, who was already at risk of sliding off his stool, spun on it to keep the couple in sight. Even Archie, one of the most respectable citizens in town, had sunk to their level, watching Emma and Gold's interaction with wonder.

It didn't matter that they weren't hiding their observance. It seemed Emma and Gold were always consumed in their own company, oblivious to the world beyond their table.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Ruby asked in a half-whisper. One of the longtime rumors about Gold was that he possessed excellent, almost supernatural hearing. He appeared to know whenever someone spoke his name. At the moment, he only had eyes for Emma.

_Maybe he likes blondes, _Ruby thought, but then scratched that criteria off the list. He never cared an ounce for Ashley. In fact, he practically went out of his way to make her miserable ever since she signed that contract stating she would give him her baby.

"They're not discussing my cooking," Granny huffed. She replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose and went right back to staring.

"Why would she even like him?" Ruby made a dramatic gagging noise at the back of her throat. Riches or no, it wasn't worth the effort it would take to break through Gold's fortress that consisted of his stone heart and mold him into something redeemable.

"It must be the suits," Leroy concluded. He tossed back a shot of whiskey. It was way too early for the stuff, but Leroy claimed he couldn't eat his eggs without having at least one drink. "If I wore suits every day, I'd have every woman in this diner trying to win a seat next to me at the bar."

"Let's hope they're smart enough to carry Febreeze," Granny mumbled under her breath. Ruby gave him a disgusted look of her own. _I think he's had one too many drinks. That alcohol has gone straight to his head. _

"They have to be dating," Ruby said with a sorry shake of the head. Emma didn't even know what she was walking into by getting involved with Gold. She was walking straight into the jaws of a fire-breathing dragon, one more crafty than Regina. "Just look! Now they have the kid involved!"

"Nope, that kid was there before she was. You would know that if you hadn't snuck off with Benny in the laundry room between orders," Granny harshly accused, grilling Ruby to the spot with The Look.

"His name is Billy," she corrected, planting a hand on her hip.

"Same difference! You might as well make him wear a nametag that says _Boy #180!_"

Ruby felt a nasty retort rush to the tip of her tongue, but she knew better than to start a fight with Granny in the middle of the diner. She would only end up publicly humiliated and would probably end up storming out with her fifth claim of quitting.

"Maybe the Mayor convinced him to be her miniature spy," Leroy suggested, imitating Dr. Evil with his pinkie finger. Ruby turned her disbelief on the short man that was barely hanging on his stool.

"Are you kidding? That kid is on our side. Ask Archie. He has serious issues with having her for a mother. Who can blame him?" They all nodded in solemn agreement, all except for Archie whose red head lifted away from his plate.

"Actually," he objected, "I'm not allowed to tell you anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Of course, everyone knows there has been increasing tension in Regina's relationship with Henry, but do you really think she would use him in such a way?" The rest of them took a moment to think about it.

"She would," Ruby finally answered.

"In a heartbeat," Granny added on her heels.

"Don't you get it yet? She's everywhere and she's always watching. There is no escape," Leroy said to Archie. He shook his head as if he truly pitied Archie for not realizing it sooner.

"I swear, seeing that man having breakfast with someone else is like watching a penguin learn how to fly. It's not natural," Ruby said.

"I'll drink to that." Leroy lifted up his glass, only to remember that it was hopelessly empty. Neither Granny or Ruby made a move to fill it. He'd be lucky if they didn't alert Graham before he made it two steps down the street.

"If you want my professional opinion," Archie offered.

"We don't," Leroy grumbled into his empty glass. Archie carried on without showing any signs of having heard.

"I think it's very healthy for him. Mr. Gold has always been a reserved, superior individual, bordering on antisocial. Now he's getting the chance to connect with someone who is also socially awkward and out of her element here. Who knows? Maybe this will have a positive impact on him. Maybe he'll be able to open up a little more to other members of the community."

Granny, Ruby, and Leroy gawked at Archie like he had three heads. For Leroy, that might have been true. _Sure, Hopper, _Ruby thought skeptically. _And Regina will get hit by a bus, I'll win the jackpot, and Pongo will become the new ruler of this town with his statue in the center of it. _

"See, this is why no one asks for your professional opinion," Leroy bellowed. Archie looked around at the others cluelessly, unsure of where he went wrong.

"Think about it," Ruby said. "First Emma comes to town. Then she's having breakfast with Gold of all people. Ashley has her baby in the same week when she's been carrying that thing for, like, ever. Now some Coma Guy woke up from his coma?"

No one could offer her an explanation.

"All I'm trying to say is...something strange is going on in this town."

...

_**I've been looking forward to writing this chapter this week. It was a lot of fun to include Henry as well as Ruby's reaction to the breakfasts Emma has with Gold. Someone actually mentioned the idea of Henry having breakfast with Emma and Gold at some point (thank you, 1994omi). Let's just say: great minds think alike. **_

_**I also want to take a moment to thank all of the readers that have left me wonderful reviews: Kiara Queen of Kaos, Lyn Harkeran, orthankg1, SparrowsFlight, Shizuku Tsukishima749, CharlotteAshmore, Mistra Rose, 1994omi, beverlie4055, and Loki Holmes. **_

_**What should Gold and Emma try for breakfast in the future? (-; **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I decided to try something a little different with the breakfast scene in this chapter. It's something I've had myself a few times. I hope you enjoy it. As always, I adore the kind words that come with those reviews and I appreciate the ideas some have given me for breakfast meals/questions Emma might ask. Feel free to add to the list. (-; **_

Emma Swan was more bitter than sweet these days. There were many things she hated in life. Over-the-top dresses. The color pink. People who took family for granted when there were others in the world-like her-that never knew the meaning of the word. Regina Mills. Some people might argue that _hate _was a strong word, but Emma thought it fit perfectly. These were the things that she did not wish to deal with in life.

Emma hated the night shift.

It was the dead of the night, the beam of her headlights the only illumination on the road. The only sounds outside her window were the rustling of leaves on gravel and the occasional whine of an animal in the trees. The night shift was excruciatingly slow and quiet. All she did was drive in circles around the streets of Storybrooke, keeping a sharp eye out for suspcious activity.

It seemed the only criminal behavior in this town, at least after the sun set, involved Leroy, a dozen alcoholic drinks, and a water fountain.

She stifled a yawn as the nose of the police cruiser rounded the bend for the third time, rolling past the sleeping houses. What could Graham possibly be doing to help the animal shelter at this time of night? Or did he decide not to take the rest of the shift off her hands?

Right about now, she could have a chance to listen to Mary gush over the children she taught, specifically Henry. If only there was a way she could talk to Henry without encouraging him to sneak out of his bedroom window. Hearing his voice, even if he went on about his fairy tales, might make the night shift tolerable.

Beyond the windshield, the houses rose out of the darkness one by one. At this hour of the night, each one appeared identical to the last, every door shut tight, every porch light turned off, every bedroom window cast in shadows as the owners were swept away to dreamland. Lucky them.

Maybe that was why she noticed it-and not because she was expecting the house to pop up on the right side of the street.

Only one light remained on, calling out to her from the darkness like a lighthouse guiding her safely home. When her car got close enough, she saw how the amber glow illuminated the light pink hue of the house. Despite the color, the house was one of the biggest and fanciest on the entire block, a testament to the extraordinary wealth of the man that haunted it. One of the windows on the highest floor flooded with light and she assumed it was the bedroom.

Somehow, the car came to a halt in front of the house. For an instant, she was afraid the car broke down, until she realized her foot had hit the brake. Her thoughts turned back to that pink house and the man that lived there.

Was she desperate enough for entertainment during the night shift to welcome the excuse to visit Gold? Would he appreciate her company at this time of night or would she be overstepping her boundaries? _I shall always have time to spare for you, Emma. _

That was ridiculous. They were barely even friends. He probably had better things to do at this time of night than entertain her when she was supposed to be doing the night shift. Even the most powerful man in town needed his beauty sleep. Or did Gold even sleep at all?

Their lines were already drawn. She would see him in the morning over breakfast.

Emma tore away from the curb and continued on her patrol of Storybrooke without looking back. Unfortunately, her brain wasn't so quick to follow suit. It kept wandering back to Gold as she started down Henry's street. At the moment, her brain was distracted with the challenge of coming up with a new set of questions to ask him over breakfast. Being one step away from a walking zombie, they weren't keepers. _Is the rest of your house pink on the inside, too? How long have you had that cane? Is that your real accent?_

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye commanded her attention. She hadn't passed Regina's sprawling white estate yet, but she had a good view of the corner of the house.

Ducking her head over the steering wheel, she glanced up at the top window just as a shadow darted in front of it. It was impossible to see the face from this distance, but someone was sneaking out of the house via window. It wasn't Henry's bedroom window, but no other candidate came to mind. The mayor was too proud to be caught sneaking out of her own house.

Parking the car, Emma leaped out and crept in front of the bushes. Already she recognized the sound of footseps shuffling across the ground, coming this way, trying to be silent. She sucked in her breath and waited for the chance to strike.

The figure of a person hopped into view, barely a breath away from her, but the person was too tall to be Henry. So she had no issue with jumping into their path and driving her fist into their stomach. The person doubled over, emitting an agonized groan. Catching a fistful of hair, Emma yanked his head up to figure out the identity of the person that trespassed on the Mayor's property.

All at once, it felt like she had been sucker-punched in the gut instead.

"Graham?"

The only response she earned was the closing of his eyes in guilt and another groan, this one muffled in his throat. She released his hair and turned away, fighting off the disgust that formed knots in her stomach. Conclusions swam in her mind, but she preferred to hear it from him.

"I may be new to this town, but this doesn't look like the animal shelter to me."

From what she gathered of the pieces of this puzzle, he had all but deceived her. Lied to her, made up some tender story so that he could...what? Enjoy a late-night romp with the Mayor? _The Mayor has her hands in everything. _Emma tasted bile on the roof of her mouth.

Was she the only person in this town that hadn't known about it?

Graham slowly regained his balance, his hands cautiously raised in the air to stave off any further attacks. The truth was plain on his face, but he expected the chance to plead his case.

"I know how this looks," he said. Ugh, not that line. It was too close to _this isn't what it looks like. _What was she supposed to think? That he was practicing for the part of Santa Claus several months early?

"It looks like you were sneaking out of the Mayor's house in the middle of the night. Your clothes are rumpled, your hair is messy, your skin is flushed...I'll bet less than five minutes ago, you were tangled up in her arms." Graham lowered his hands. He didn't bother to deny it.

"You're right-I was and I should have been honest with you from the beginning. The truth is, I don't volunteer at an animal shelter." Emma shot him a painfully obvious look that screamed _no, really? _Suddenly Graham's demeanor changed and he became defensive. "You're having daily breakfast with Mr. Gold. This isn't much different an arrangement."

Emma's jaw hit the ground. The unexpected accusation blindsided her. Now Graham was walking on exceptionally thin ice. In fact, it was cracking underneath his feet.

"Not much different? What are you implying?" Graham's eyes dropped to his shoes, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. Clearly, he was regretting having said that at all. "I'm having breakfast with him, not having quickies in the diner's restroom! And I've never snuck out of his house in the middle of the night! You have no right to justify this by bringing up my personal life!"

She angrily thrusted the car key toward Graham's chest, punctuating every word she spoke. The threat of nearly getting stabbed by the key convinced him to raise his hands in surrender again. Emma's attention snapped to the window of Henry's bedroom-she thought she saw the curtain move.

"What about Henry? Does he know?" Graham brought his hands closer to his face, forming a shield.

"It's alright. Henry is asleep." It didn't provide much reassurance for Emma. She let out a nauseated moan and shoved her fingers through her blonde mane.

The idea of Graham and Regina doing anything remotely intimate while Henry was in the house twisted her stomach. How long had this affair been going on? How many times did Graham climb out of the window like a lovesick Romeo scaling the tower of his beloved? There was no way that someone as intelligent and observant as Henry missed this detail.

How many times had Regina sacrificed her duties as mother and mayor of the town to enjoy a quick one with the Sheriff?

"This is disgusting," Emma spat. The idea of the affair left a vile taste on her tongue. She tossed the keys to Graham before he could make a move to apologize for his behavior. She didn't want to hear it. "You can finish my shift."

Then she spun on her heel and started to walk away, retracing her steps through the dark to Mary Margaret's apartment, with angry black thoughts pulsing in her brain.

...

Though her brain was still overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, her feet had another destination in mind. She didn't even realize she was heading for the enormous pink house until she was standing directly in front of it on the sidewalk. The light was on, the owner awake inside. So she strode up the path and knocked on the front door.

She told herself it was because she needed someone to talk to and the only reason she chose to knock on his door was because she didn't want to drag Mary Margaret out of bed. Archie was probably asleep as well and she didn't need the reminder that he was also Henry's therapist. It was only because his light was on-if any other house had light, she would have chosen another person on the block.

That wasn't exactly true, either. It took time for her to be able to open up to someone. She didn't know half of these people well enough to unload her feelings in the dead of the night. Currently, her list of people to confide in consisted of Mary Margaret, Henry...and Gold. All of them were willing to listen; none were quick to judge her.

At least, she hoped he wouldn't be quick to judge this unannounced visit. Tonight, her patience was too thin for ulterior motives or sly smirks. _So then why am I here? _

She almost turned to walk away, call it quits, when the front door swung open. A shaft of milky light from the foyer spread over her boots and there, casting a shadow in the doorway, stood Gold. In the comfort and territory of his own home, he stood taller and prouder than she remembered. It shouldn't have surprised her that he hadn't yet changed out of his dress suit and pants. She struggled to picture him in any form of sleepwear.

If anyone deserved to be surprised, it was him, but all he did was perk an eyebrow. He leaned against the doorframe and dried his hands on a crimson dishtowel. Apparently, he had been in the middle of doing dishes or some other kind of handiwork.

"Ah, Deputy Swan," he greeted cordially. He draped the dishtowel over his shoulder and gave her a long, perusing once-over. "This is a pleasant surprise. How can I help you so late at night?" If he meant anything other than politeness with that offer, her brain wasn't in any condition to catch it. Instead, she simply responded with a ragged sigh.

"I need a drink."

Even with his back to the light, his face shadowed, she noticed the way the corners of his lips curled upward. She had a feeling he wouldn't turn her away and she was proven right when he stepped back and edged the door open wider, allowing her space to pass.

"By all means..." He gestured for her to enter.

She was well aware that this was strictly his territory that she was crossing into, the lion's den so to speak, but she stepped over the the threshold without any hesitation. He closed the door behind her; there was no scrape of metal to indicate he locked it. Taking up his cane from the wall, he led her down a hallway which she assumed opened into the kitchen. _Right again, _she thought as she laid eyes on the kitchen over his shoulder.

It was the type of kitchen that was featured in those home style magazines. The type of kitchen people would die to have.

Smooth white tiles-real marble-covered the entire floor. There was an island in the center, overlaid with black marble. The counters contained the same black marble, without a speck of food or grease. Overhanging cabinets jutted from the walls above the stove and sink, with ample room for storage. The refrigerator could hold enough food to host a party in Hollywood. A sliding glass door to her left offered a view of the yard outside, though the world was pitch black at the moment.

If this was his kitchen, she wondered what his bedroom looked like.

On the heels of it, she scratched out that thought completely. Her cheeks burned and she hoped he wouldn't inquire the source of her embarrassment.

"What drink did you have in mind? Wine? Champagne?" Gold pulled open the refrigerator to examine the contents. The door was so wide that it completely shielded his body from view.

"Do you have anything stronger?" She winced while she asked. This wasn't Granny's Diner, with a full menu of options. She would take what she could get. Gold replied with an affirmative _mhm_, followed by the clinking of bottles. When the door closed, she was rewarded with the sight of a half-full bottle of whiskey. Perfect. "Does this mean you have your drinking preferences? Or do you treat more guests than Ruby lets on?"

She couldn't see his face, but she heard a soft exhale of breath that oddly resembled a laugh. From one of the cupboards, he removed two glass tumblers and set them on the counter.

"Not many people make it past the front door. I don't drink very often, but there are some nights when the ghosts of my past won't leave me be. Tell me when to stop."

He started pouring whiskey into a glass, his ear cocked to await her signal. Her lips remained clamped together as the liquid climbed one inch, two inches...When it became clear that she wasn't about to give the signal, he settled for handing her a glass half-full. Boldly, she tossed it back in one gulp while he prepared a smaller drink for himself.

The whiskey burned its way down her throat and into her stomach, but it warmed her up and chased some of the anger from her head. If she wasn't careful, her sense of logic would be the next to go.

"What has got you so...frustrated? I take it you're here for more than a drink." He watched her expectantly. Tentatively, she held out her glass and he quietly refilled it. Where did she even start?

"Did you know that Graham and Regina were involved?"

This wasn't about passing on a juicy rumor and hearing _no way _or _you're kidding me_ as a result. As one of the most powerful people in Storybrooke, he would likely know about the sticky affairs that took place within its limits. There was no alarm, no tensing of muscle, no shocked gasp.

He knew.

"If you're talking about Sheriff Graham being Regina's personal wind-up toy, then yes, I am well-aware of it," he confirmed. "In fact, I doubt there's a single person in Storybrooke who doesn't suspect it. Except for you, of course." He extended her the glass again, the whiskey sloshing over the sides. On his lips was that trivial smirk. She glared at him, but when she went to grab the drink, he pulled it out of her reach. "Ah-ah-ah. Best behavior."

If only he followed his own advice.

Smug jerk.

"Thank you," she mumbled half-heartedly when he guided the glass into her hand. She took a large swig of it before attempting to get everything off her chest. "I caught him sneaking out of her house, through the window like some hormonal teenage boy. They were...doing it while Henry was in the house..." She pulled a sour face. "It makes me sick."

Gold rotated the glass in his hand, apparently admiring the liquid in the dim light.

"The fact that Graham has needs like every other male organism? Or the fact that Regina can have someone like him wrapped around her finger?" She didn't answer. Her thoughts were tangled, impossible to sort out. She supposed she thought of Graham as being better than to get involved with someone like Regina. "Even good men make mistakes, Emma."

Avoiding his gaze, she deposited the glass next to the sink, the drink unfinished. Her desire for alcohol swiftly passed, her brain and nerves buzzing. Gold turned on the tap and began to wash out the tumblers. Grabbing the dishtowel, she offered to dry while he rinsed. It was the least she could do.

"Do you consider yourself a good man?" The question caught him off-guard. He paused in the middle of rinsing out the second glass, the water rippling over his fingers as he lost himself in thought. He got that glazed look in his eye again, as if she had stirred up old memories.

"No," he answered almost inaudibly. "I haven't considered myself a good man for many, many years. Perhaps that's why I find it easy to assume the role of the town monster. Nothing is expected of me in terms of honor. I keep telling myself I made the right choices. Maybe one of these days, I'll believe it."

He passed the glass to her and she did a quick job of drying it. Into the cupboard went the tumblers, until next time. Afterwards, Emma leaned back with her elbows propped up on the counter, studying him none-too-subtly as he wiped down the edge of the sink.

"You're not that much of a monster," she said. He sent her a skeptical look while carrying the bottle of alcohol back to the fridge. "I've seen worse."

The bottle landed on the shelf harder than he intended. He didn't know what to say to that. All they could do was continuously meet each other's eyes and wait for the other to say something.

"Would you like something to eat? Perhaps some breakfast?" He motioned to the open fridge over his shoulder. Emma's head tilted.

"Breakfast? At this time of night?" He shrugged.

"Haven't you ever heard of breakfast for dinner?" Emma wasn't too sure about the dinner part. This was more along the lines of breakfast for a midnight snack. Come to think of it, her belly was more empty than full...and it wouldn't be good to depend only on the whiskey...

"Am I still limited to three questions?" He stopped to consider it in the process of gathering the appropriate items from the fridge. His arms were full with sausages, bacon, a tub of butter, and the carton of eggs. Emma went to his side to lend him a hand.

"Since we had breakfast together this morning...no. Ask away."

Emma briefly contemplated shooting him those silly questions she came up with earlier, then discarded the idea. She wasn't much of a cook, but she handed him the required ingredients while he handled the stove. Suddenly she realized that this would be the first time he cooked for her.

"Is there anything in this world that you can't do?" She asked. It seemed he was good at everything. She watched as his hands perfectly split open egg after egg and how he devoted equal attention to every pan of food on the stove.

"I have my weak points. You might come to realize it, if you spent more than an hour with me daily," he said. The smile started to crumble on his face. She wondered what weak points he was thinking of. Many people in town had no problem with calling him a monster, but Emma knew he was only human.

After the not-so-traditional breakfast was on the table, it took a while to get around to the other questions boggling her mind. From the first bite, she was sent straight to the stars. The melted butter wrapped around her tongue, the pancakes were soft as clouds, the eggs were well-cooked and precisely the way she liked them. This was the kind of breakfast she wouldn't mind waking up to every morning.

Nothing was burned; everything was perfect.

Finally, when they started washing the dishes in the sink, she managed to ask how long Graham had been involved with Regina. She couldn't risk spoiling the meal Gold had prepared. The answer was the same one most people in Storybrooke gave when interrogated about a specific memory: "As long as I can remember."

Her eye sought out the clock on the wall and she saw that it was going on eleven o'clock. Cinderella may have had a curfew of midnight, but she hadn't counted on staying so long at Gold's. She wanted to leave before he felt obligated to extend an invitation to stay overnight.

"Thank you for the drink and the breakfast. Sorry, again, for stopping in so abruptly." Now that she thought about it, she hadn't exactly apologized a first time. She pushed away from the counter, her sights set on the front door. Surprisingly, he caught her shoulder, holding her back.

"I meant what I said. I will always have time to spare for you."

She figured that it was something he said to be polite, like when men told their sweethearts they didn't look fat in a dress or _it was no big deal_ if someone didn't like the birthday present they received. Something not to be taken to heart. Gold was a special case, though. He never seemed to take words for granted.

Emma silently questioned if she should shake the hand off her shoulder or else never leave, but he recoiled before she made up her mind. Strangely, his touch stayed with her long after it was gone.

"Would you...like a ride back to Mary Margaret's? It's rather late. Storybrooke is a much different world after the sun sets," he warned. She prepared to tell him she had a car, when she remembered she left it with Graham. A half hour ago, she couldn't forget her argument with him. Now it floated at the back of her mind.

"I think I can handle it." What was the worst that could happen? A run-in with the wolf she nearly hit? In any case, Gold looked like he admired her bravado. True to his nature as a gentleman, he escorted her to the door.

"Goodnight, Miss Swan," he drawled. Without warning, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. Even he appeared baffled by the gesture, as though amazed he had the guts to do it. It might have been a mixture of the kiss and her own exhaustion, but she ended up smiling.

"Goodnight, Gold." She started down the path, her feet hardly unbalanced even after those two drinks. Behind her, the door closed and she pictured him with his back pressed against it, still listening for her fading footsteps.

At the end of the walkway, something rustled in the bushes that lined the sidewalk. At first, Emma was convinced it was some kind of wild animal-a raccoon or a skunk-until she recognized the fedora poking out of the top. Stuffing her hands in the bush, she pulled out Sidney Glass. Leaves and twigs clung to his hat and clothes. In his hand was a digital camera. Already she knew there would be at least one photo of her with Gold on it, ready to be printed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Sidney brushed the leaves off his clothes. While he was preoccupied, Emma snatched the camera from his hand and scrolled through his recent pictures. Just as she expected, there was a picture of her entering Gold's house, with Gold half-bent to gesture her to step inside. Another depicted her leaving the house, right at the moment Gold decided to kiss her hand.

She could see the headlines now. _Storybrooke Sweethearts: At It Again. _

"I know how this looks," he said pleadingly. He reached for the camera, but she stepped beyond the length of his arm.

"You know, you're the second person to tell me that tonight," she snapped. "Why don't you start with the truth?" Sidney opened his mouth wordlessly. The fight drained out of him quickly, his shoulders caving.

"I may have followed you from Regina's house. After your...misunderstanding with Sheriff Graham. You see, I like to think of myself as reporter by day, Regina's bodyguard by night." Emma gaped at him. Was he planning to leak her argument with Graham, too? Or did he intend to imply that she ditched the night shift to spend an evening in Gold's arms? "Look, I just needed a good story and right now you're the hottest topic in town. You're practically a celebrity. Take it as a compliment. How about an exclusive?"

Sidney looked like he was itching to get his camera back in one piece.

"An exclusive?" _How's this for an exclusive? _ To Sidney's horror, she threw the camera on the ground and repeatedly stomped on it with her boot. The screen was shattered, the glass resembling an intricate spider web. It may not have been the smartest move, but it felt good.

She'd blame it on the alcohol.

Sidney's mouth unhinged when she piled the broken remains in his hand.

"If I ever catch you taking pictures of me or of him," she threatened, pointing to Gold's house, "like some slimy paparazzi, you'll have more than a broken camera to deal with." Leaving him to mourn over his camera, she stormed down the street with a satisfied smile pinned to her lips.

...

He closed the door behind Emma, but he did not make a move to step away from it. His back pressed against it, the solid plane the only thing that currently felt real. In a matter of seconds, his nerves turned to wet spaghetti noodles, his legs to Jell-O, and he grasped the doorknob, fearing he might fall over.

Did that...really just happen? Or had the overload of memories compromise his sanity, making this an illusion or tantalizing dream at best? Surely...he didn't have the courage to kiss Emma Swan, even if it was a peck on the hand? Where had that burst of courage even come from? The whiskey?

He held his hand in front of his face and saw that it was trembling. Out of nervousness, probably. He licked his lips, but his lips were nothing more than two thin strips of sandpaper, terribly dry. Returning to the kitchen-surprisingly steady on his feet-he retrieved the dishtowel from the sink and helped himself to a glass of water. That felt slightly better.

Before Emma arrived so unexpectedly, though not unpleasantly, he had been in the basement, using the dishtowel to shine up his dagger. It had been locked in the back of his shop, of seemingly no importance to his cursed counterpart.

When he hurried down the stairs, he was relieved to see that the dagger was exactly where he left it, on the worktable. It may be considered paranoid to think someone in town might steal the dagger, but he had gone centuries without being controlled as the Dark One. He didn't intend to ruin his record now.

Settling on the stool at the corner of the table, he picked up the dagger by the hilt and traced his name on the blade. His real name. As if it weren't startling enough that he was Rumpelstiltskin, he also had to be one of the darkest beings that ever treaded through the Enchanted Forest.

What would Emma think if she came face-to-face with his true nature? Would she remain cocky or would she recoil? What if her parents argued for his imprisonment after the curse broke? Would she agree? Why not, once she learned of everything he'd done to reach this point?

_Even good men make mistakes. _

He liked to think he had been a good man once. That had been another time, practically another lifetime. That man had died centuries ago, leaving something unholy and corrupted in its place. He laid the dagger on the dishtowel.

She didn't have to know about any of this yet. It was a tale too ludicrous for her to believe. Soon he would bury this dagger, somewhere deep within the woods where no one would be able to find it. At the moment, it was an ordinary dagger, but after the curse broke, it would be brimming with untold power. That power would be up for grabs and he wasn't sure he even trusted Emma to handle it.

How had he let Emma Swan dig so far under his skin in such a short time? She was supposed to be a means to an end, a way of finding Bae, nothing more. Every time he looked at her, his heart skipped a beat. Every time he was close enough to catch a whiff of her hair, his breath lodged in his throat. Every time he saw her smile...

...for him...

...like she did tonight...

_Goodnight, Gold. _It wouldn't be a good night. Ever since awakening from his cursed persona, he hadn't gotten much sleep during the nights. His brain was rattled and overflowing with thoughts of the curse, Bae, Regina, Emma. Always back to Emma in the end.

He let his head hang down, his fingers running anxiously through his hair.

"What's wrong with me?"

...


	7. Chapter 7

_** A/N: Hello, everyone! This chapter might be a longer one than usual. I want to take a moment to thank FaeTigre, Mistra Rose, The Pianist's Touch, GuestRoom, beverlie4055, orthankg1, 1994omi, Relliurad, and Lyn Harkeran for their reviews. A little while ago, 1994omi asked what Gold's favorite animal would be. I found it difficult to imagine what Gold's favorite animal in general would be (what do you think?), so I changed it a little bit and included it in this chapter. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

When morning came, the warm buzz of the whiskey had long since worn off and Emma had to face reality.

Most of her anger at Graham had subsided. It continued to bother her that he had lied to her in the first place, but she didn't care if he wanted to waste his nights sneaking out of Regina's window. As long as it didn't hurt Henry and so long as Graham was happy, it wasn't her problem.

Until he decided to kiss her.

The Graham she knew was orderly, considerate, clean-shaven. The man that kissed her was nothing like that. He was dragging her into his affair with Regina, though she wanted no part of it. Not only did he throw a dart at her head, but he was desperate, confused, unable to make up his mind about staying with Regina.

Then he kissed her, claiming he needed to feel something. Like he was an insensitive robot when he spent hours in Regina's bed. To top it all off, he had been wild-eyed afterwards, going on about seeing something. What that something was, Emma didn't know, but the stench of alcohol that hung on his breath was a likely suspect for his erratic behavior.

As for Gold...

She had no idea how to feel about that. The whiskey had lifted some of the tension off her shoulders and she had enjoyed the late-night breakfast at his house. Now that her mind was clear and she was able to take a step back from it, she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more up his sleeve. If he hadn't been _too _accommodating.

She hadn't yet figured out his reason for investing in those breakfast meals with her. She didn't even know him that well, but she understood the kind of man he was. Slippery, deceptive, exuding charm and charisma. She meant what she said-he wasn't the big, bad wolf he made himself out to be, but he was someone that needed to be handled with caution.

Or maybe it was the fact that she had found it easier to smile than usual last night, even if there was whiskey in her system.

The possibility of any relationship, be it friend or lover, frightened her because she expected it not to last. Once she had her heart broken, and once was enough. Those walls of hers soared high into the sky, building an impenetrable fortress to shield her heart and deny all outsiders entrance. It wasn't fair to people like Mary Margaret, but she never wanted to risk feeling that vulnerable again, to have any sort of hope crumble at her feet.

The evening with Gold was something she could not comprehend, so she pushed it to the back of her mind and hid behind her walls. The only reason she didn't avoid Gold was because of her promise to have breakfast with him. However, she strayed from bringing up that night she spent in his house.

The next day, she woke to find a beautiful, obviously expensive, bouquet of flowers in the middle of Mary Margaret's table. As far as she knew, she was the one with major issues with the men in this town.

What if the bouquet was from Gold? What if it was from Graham? What would any of it mean?

Without inspecting the tag that hung from one of the stems, she picked up the vase and carried it to the trash bin. Mary Margaret walked into the kitchen just in time to see the flowers fall into the trash.

"Oh, no, no, those are-" _Thunk; _the flowers hit the bottom of the bin. "Mine," Mary Margaret finished under her breath. She hurried to the bin to rescue the flowers. Emma watched, stunned as Mary Margaret set the vase on the table again after brushing the petals free of invisible dust.

"Yours? Why would David Nolan send you flowers? He chose Kathryn, didn't he?" It seemed Graham wasn't the only male specimen that couldn't make up his mind about the women in his life. It was all but confirmed when Mary Margaret blushed deeply.

"These aren't from David," she said. Emma was puzzled. Who else would send Mary Margaret a bouquet of flowers? Did somebody die? "They're from Whale."

"Why would Whale-?" Mary Margaret gave her a look over her shoulder that said _what-do-you-think? _It hit Emma all of a sudden. "Oh. _Ew. _And you criticize me for having breakfast with Gold? Reputation or not, he's a much better choice of male company than Whale. Gold may be many things, but sleazy isn't one of them."

Mary Margaret nodded in agreement. That was where the intense blush came from. Embarassment. As much of a mistake as it was to get involved with a married man, it was possibly an even worse mistake to get involved with Whale. Ruby was more suited for his company than nun-like Mary Margaret.

"Who did _you _think these flowers were from?" Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow questioningly. Emma sincerely hoped she had momentarily forgotten about her flower abuse.

"Graham. Or Gold," she mumbled.

"Why would Mr. Gold send you flowers? Unless...it's the same reason as Whale's..." She stared at Emma with a mixture of fear and concern, even when Emma's face scrunched up with distaste.

"Ugh, no! We haven't..._I _haven't...that isn't even likely to happen." Mary Margaret made a small _hmm _noise in the back of her throat as she went back to rearranging the flowers in the vase. Emma took it as a sign she didn't believe it. "Why does Gold do anything? To get something he wants. It may also have something to do with the fact that I...visited him at his house the other night after an argument with Graham. And he kissed me on the hand."

Mary Margaret gave up on the flowers. Her expression radiated that infuriating message: _I told you so. _

"Gold kissed you on the hand?" She made it sound as shocking as if a meteor crashed into Regina's house overnight. Did he seriously never have a significant other while in Storybrooke? Was this really the first time that the town got a glimpse of him being remotely intimate?

"Yes, _Gold_. I doubt Graham would even dare to kiss me on the hand after his late night session with Regina. Though, now that I think about it, he kissed me, too." Mary Margaret's eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of her head. For once, she knew more juicy news than Ruby. Emma trusted her enough not to spread the word.

"You mean...Graham and Regina...?" The horrified look on Mary Margaret's face told Emma that she had no clue about the affair.

It seemed Gold was wrong. There was one other person in Storybrooke that did not suspect Graham's affair with Regina. That may have been because Mary Margaret had an unrelenting habit of seeing the best in others.

Mary Margaret got that wise look in her eyes and Emma knew she was in for an earful.

"You know I might not fully agree with the idea of you getting close to Gold..."

"You've made that clear," Emma interjected.

"But," Mary Margaret continued as if Emma hadn't spoken a word. "I wouldn't mind it if it meant you were happy and that you found the strength to let someone in. Those walls of yours, Emma...they may keep out pain, but they will also keep out love. Don't deny yourself that opportunity."

Emma glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was still early, but she didn't feel like assessing the issue of her walls any longer. It was too personal.

"I have to go or I'll be late for breakfast," she said, grabbing up her jacket. Mary Margaret took the hint, letting her go.

"Say good morning to Gold for me," she teased as Emma pulled open the door and set one foot in the hallway.

"Not unless you want him to get the wrong idea and start visiting here for breakfast." The teasing ended. A sheen of panic eclipsed the humor. She looked like she had just witnessed Bambi's mother getting shot.

"Never mind," Mary Margaret quickly replied. _That's what I thought. _

_..._

The late night get-together at Gold's house didn't come up in conversation between her and Gold until that morning. Emma hoped it was one those things that would never be mentioned at all, especially in public where the townspeople were likely to overhear. The last thing she needed was more rumors floating about. If Sidney Glass had any common sense, he would keep his mouth closed on the subject.

By the time Emma sat down across from Gold in Granny's Diner, her shoulders were tense and her mind was overloaded with tired thoughts of Graham, Gold, Regina, and of course Henry.

"You have bigger circles under your eyes than Sheriff Graham," Gold commented. Emma rubbed her thumb over the patch of skin under her left eye. It was sore. "It just so happens I ran into him in the woods this morning."

That snagged Emma's attention.

"What was Graham doing in the woods?"

That gold tooth gleamed as he grinned at her and it only took her a moment to realize the source of his amusement. She had wasted one of her questions. It had rushed out of her mouth before she thought to correct it or staunch it. Well, at least she would earn an honest answer.

Concern for Graham prevailed over her annoyance at her own carelessness. The past few days were spent avoiding him at all costs, but she still noticed he was in a bad shape, worn down, and run ragged until he was barely recognizable as Storybrooke's Sheriff. Now he was galloping through the woods? She hadn't been a Deputy for very long, but she knew it was extremely rare, bordering impossible, for a problem in Storybrooke to lead into the woods. Most of the cases they handled included Leroy's drunken adventures and shoplifting.

Or was that his new redezvous point with Regina?

Nah, Regina would detest the soil on her shoes and leaves on her suit. In her mind, it wouldn't be worth the trouble. The closest they would come to secrecy was Granny's Inn, which wasn't secret at all considering it also put a roof over Ruby's head.

"From what he told me, he's scouring the woods for a wolf. Apparently, he's been mesmerized by a lost memory," Gold explained.

_Memory? Wolf? _She struggled not to be reminded of Henry's theory, that everyone had lost their true memories. She wondered if the wolf Graham was after was the same one she had nearly hit with her car. Surely, there was more than one wolf in Storybrooke. Wolves often traveled in packs, not slinking through a small town by its lonesome.

She would have to swallow her pride and interrogate Graham later, if only to verify that he was alright.

"I find it hard to picture _you _in the woods. It'd be a shame if dirt got smeared on your expensive suit," she said, prodding him for answers. He glanced down at his sleeves, as if there might be a streak of unwanted mud. Not even a speck of dirt or string of hair.

"I wear protection...in the form of an apron."

Emma somehow found it even harder to imagine Gold wearing any sort of apron over his suit. What was he doing in the woods, anyway? Burying a body?

"I can read the question in your eyes. Highly suspcious for a man like me to be in the woods. For the record, I own a cabin in the woods and occasionally I like to isolate myself from the rest of Storybrooke. Gain some peace and quiet. Today, I was doing a spot of gardening when Graham came my way. I would have brought you a flower, but, alas, the only plant to be plucked was poison ivy."

_Cabin in the woods? That's not suspcious at all. _She made a mental note to ask Graham about it or check it out herself.

More questions pressed at the front of her mind, most of them troubling. _How did Graham look? Was he in his right mind at all? What memory did he uncover? _Instead, she picked up the menu, forcing herself to focus on the list of breakfast offers. She didn't want to think about Graham or any of his personal issues, including Regina. It would only spoil her morning.

For a long time, her eyes scrolled over the menu without entirely seeing it. What would Graham ever want to do with a wild wolf? Since when did Gold take up gardening as a hobby? _Curiouser and curiouser..._

"Might I make a suggestion before you burn holes into the menu?"

Emma gradually lifted her gaze to Gold, her expression unchanged. She hadn't been aware of the grimace taking hold, a side effect of the mess of thoughts racing in her head. As much as she tried to shake it, the dark look snapped back into place like a rubber band. Yet Gold was perfectly calm and pleasant, seemingly immune to it.

"Try Granny's blueberry pancakes," he suggested.

The yearning for delicious, warm food scrubbed away some of the grumpiness. She instantly located the blueberry pancakes on the menu. She was always more of a chocolate chip pancake sort of girl, another craving that Henry shared.

"I suppose she adds a secret ingredient if they're better than any other blueberry pancakes in the world," she said dryly. If there was a secret ingredient, there was zero chance of anyone prying it from Granny's steel fingers. Gold shrugged, though the smile claimed he knew more than he was telling.

"As a matter of fact, the secret ingredient is the one that is most obvious. I'll bet you've never tasted blueberry pancakes in Maine before. The blueberries Granny uses are always fresh and sweet." Gold ran his tongue over his mouth, demonstrating just how tempting it was. "I think I'll have the same."

"I haven't even decided if I'll take you up on your suggestion," she retorted. For some reason, it irked her when Gold had a valid point. Even worse when he knew it.

"You enjoyed my suggestion of breakfast tacos, did you not?"

"Yes," she muttered reluctantly. She even recommended them to Henry, who had never tried them before because Regina did not consider it a "substantial breakfast choice."

Gold waved his hand to say _there-you-go. _Reasonably, she should not question his suggestion of blueberry pancakes if his suggestion of breakfast tacos was a good one. It was all a matter of trust. That was precisely the problem. That was the underlying message that was hard for her to swallow: _do you trust me? Will you take a chance twice? _There was no way Gold hadn't picked up on the significance of it.

It was just a suggestion. Nothing more, nothing less. A polite gesture, as excusable as someone holding the door open.

And this was just breakfast.

"I've got nothing to lose...except seven ninety-nine," she said, reading the price attached to the blueberry pancakes. _A bit more expensive than Denny's, but I guess that's what happens when you have a strict landowner. _"Before you offer, I'm paying for my own food."

Gold's behavior took a sharp left turn, becoming chilly. He pursed his lips and sank back from the table. She hardly cared if it struck him as rude. Time and again, he claimed she did not owe him for breakfast, but he had enough to blackmail her already. Starting with those breakfast tacos.

"I wasn't planning on it, actually," he shot back. If this was his attempt to spite her for the unnecessary assumption of his generosity, she didn't take offense. She didn't know how to accept the times he offered to waste his wealth on her. Now she effectively killed any chance of that happening.

After placing their order-two plates of blueberry pancakes-they fell into uncomfortable silence, both preferring to stare into opposite directions. Her thoughts inevitably turned back to Graham and his wolf.

Why would Graham chase after a wolf? Did he want to hunt it down before it hurt anyone in town? Or was there another reason she wasn't seeing? It didn't make sense, but she was starting to see that very little did in Storybrooke.

The thought of wolves roaming the woods brought on a fresh question. The silence was far too heavy, anyway.

"Are you a cat person or a dog person?" She couldn't recall any sign of a living animal in Gold's house, nor were there ever any stray hairs on his suit. Did he prefer solitude so much that he even rejected the love of a pet? Even her heart began to melt at the sight of Pongo.

"Is there an option for neither? Animals don't seem to like me very much." Emma couldn't help but feel a shred of pity for him. His presence not only repelled the townspeople, but it repelled animals, too. Then again, it didn't help that Gold was a walking _Danger _sign.

"You didn't answer my question." He exhaled loudly.

"If I had to choose one, it would be...a dog. They're not so judgmental."

She pictured Gold walking a dog alongside Archie's every morning, earning its kisses, cuddling its head in his lap. It was a strange mental image. When she pictured Gold petting a cat, however, it only reinforced his sinister aura. Cats and villains often went hand-in-hand.

"What inspired that question? Graham's wolf? Or do you intend to surprise me by dropping a pup on my doorstep?" It might cure him of his loneliness. Should she make a note of that for his birthday? Companionship, even from a dog, might heal those scars on his heart.

"I barely have enough to sustain myself at the moment. It's not exactly on my To-Do list to stop at the local pet store and buy you a new friend. The most I can afford is a goldfish that will probably go belly-up in two weeks. I was just curious."

"You often are," he said, with an admiring glint in his eye. "You're Storybrooke's version of Alice. Instead of chasing a rabbit down a hole, you crossed our border in a cozy yellow Bug. Regina certainly wants you off with your head. The question is: will you climb out of the rabbit hole when she's defeated?"

Emma squirmed in her seat. His talk of Alice in Wonderland was too close to Henry's fascination with fairy tales. _If I'm Alice, then you must be the Cheshire Cat. Always speaking in riddles, always knowing more than you care to share. _

It was obvious he needed her to stay in Storybrooke. He needed that favor.

"Why do you want to share these mornings with me?" Gold cocked his head to the side, thoughtfully.

"I get the feeling this won't be the last time you ask that question, Emma." She shrugged loosely. That depended solely on him.

"Maybe one of these days you'll give me a satisfying answer," she replied. He opened his mouth to object. "You've sworn to be honest with me, but there's a such thing as lying by omission. There's more to this picture than you want me to see. I want to know why."

The more she stared at him across the table, waiting for an answer, the more he avoided direct eye contact. He was hesitating. _I want an explanation...but you refuse to give it to me. _She could already tell he was forming some kind of excuse.

"You're not ready yet," he said, which only aggravated her more. Henry said the same thing regarding the secret code name he picked out for her. Some instinct warned her it might be _Mom. _Now Gold was using the same tactic to stall. "I am not lying when I say I enjoy your company. That brings me to my question for you: did you enjoy my company when you visited me the other night?"

A lump grew in Emma's throat.

"Did _you?" _

"I asked first," he fired back. "And you have no more questions at your disposal for the day, so I won't be answering that one." Emma hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Ruby behind the bar, praying their food was on the way and ready to serve as a distraction. No such luck.

"I enjoyed your whiskey," she said. Hopefully, that would be enough of an honest admission to satisfy him. In retrospect, she should have known better. Nothing was ever plain and simple when it involved Gold. He was not unlike those annoying Internet trolls-if you were dumb enough to feed it, it only came back for more.

"You didn't answer my question," he cleverly tossed her own words back in her face. Acutely aware of the morning crowd in the diner, she dipped her head low over the table so she wouldn't be overheard by anyone but Gold.

"Yes," she hissed as quietly as she could. "Yes, I may have enjoyed your company...under the influence of whiskey."

Gold did not pursue his line of questioning. He settled back on his side of the booth and soaked up her admission with a placid expression on his face that read _really? _She understood that he tended to expect the opposite, rejection, and that he could not imagine that someone would enjoy his company. Perhaps he only asked to confirm his growing fears that it had been intolerable for her. To shatter his hopes before they rose too high.

It was part of her problem as well. What she wanted more than anything in this world was family, but she wasn't sure how to make that leap. She pushed people away far more than she accepted them with open arms. She never anticipated that anyone would be attracted to her, even as far as a steady friendship.

Now people like Henry and Mary Margaret were giving her a chance.

No one ever considered giving Gold a chance.

Five minutes later, their dishes were placed on the table. Two plates piled with pancakes, still steaming, and sprinkled with more blueberries than Emma had ever seen in those little cartons at the grocery store. The first bite she took nearly made her mouth water and she vowed never to speak a word against blueberry pancakes again, least of all Granny's.

Even when her stomach was packed, she refused to leave extra food on the plate. Her fork scraped the plate until there was only juice and syrup.

"See what happens," Gold said, dabbing his lips clean with a napkin, "when you listen to me?" And he grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

...

In her office, in the heart of Storybrooke's Town Hall, Regina lingered at the window and glared at the clock tower. The hands on the face of the clock weren't supposed to be moving, but that was only one of the problems that had occurred since Emma Swan's arrival.

Time wasn't supposed to be moving again. Charming wasn't supposed to be awake, much less forging a bond with his former beloved. Cinderella wasn't supposed to give birth to her baby or reunite with her prince. The human cricket wasn't supposed to have a spine.

Graham wasn't supposed to recover his memories.

It was all _her _fault. The outsider that had invaded their peaceful town and turned it upside-down. She was ruining everything. _First you take my son...and now you want to take Graham from me, too? What gives you the right? _

What if Graham found his wolf? What if he regained his true memories? It would be impossible to reason away everything she had done. If that ever happened, then she would have no choice. If any of them regained their memories, it would likely create a chain reaction and everything would be undone.

Emma Swan was beginning to force her hand.

A knock at the door disrupted her brooding thoughts. Turning away from the window, she plopped down in her chair behind her desk before giving the visitor permission to enter. It wouldn't be proper to let the townspeople see their mayor so idle. Not that any of them had the guts to challenge her or overthrow her position. Not even Gold had shown interest in claiming that seat of power.

Things were changing now that Emma was here. The foundation on which she stood so proudly was shaking. Best not to risk it.

It was only Sidney Glass. Otherwise known as her enchanted mirror and formerly a genie that kissed the ground she walked on. Even in this land, some details were too engraved in their systems to be erased completely. Sidney had a not-so-secret crush on her. It was almost nauseating, but it was the price she paid to pull his strings.

"This had better be worth my time," she warned coldly, mostly for the effect while she strived to look busy with paperwork. Sidney gulped loudly and fixed that atrocious fedora on his head. Did he know he had a twig sticking out of it?

"Sorry to disturb you, Madame Mayor. I have news about Storybrooke's Sweethearts," he announced, his coined phrase glazed with excitement.

Regina didn't share his enthusiasm this morning. Just what she needed. The cherry on top of an arsenic-coated sundae in the form of Emma Swan. What did she even see in that decrepit, deceitful imp? It was beyond revolting.

When she didn't tear her eyes away from the stack of papers, she twirled her finger through the air to encourage him to continue. He had yet to prove this was worth her while.

"Get this: Deputy Swan neglects her duties on the night shift to spend an evening with none other than Mr. Gold inside his house. Almost an hour, actually. Two people could do a lot in one hour," he said, his eyebrows bobbing. She sincerely hoped he wasn't hinting at anything intimate with her. "She even received a kiss on the hand when he wished her goodnight at the door. Scandalous, isn't it?"

Regina surrendered her pen, letting it fall among the papers on her desk. Sitting up straight, she crossed one leg over the other, intrigued.

"Is that so?" The more Sidney reported to her about Emma Swan, the more Regina decided she was a bad influence on Henry. This was proof that she was no pure white knight, as he liked to believe.

What else could she have done with Gold for an hour behind closed doors? She was just surprised that Gold hadn't entertained her longer, given his selfish, demanding nature. Perhaps this was why Rumpelstiltskin couldn't keep a woman for longer than a few months at best-failure to entertain. No promising results.

"I even snapped a fantastic picture of the kiss. After viewing it, how could anyone-including your son-deny that these two are more than breakfast partners?" Regina's lips split apart to reveal a victorious smile. _How, indeed? Henry will be so disappointed. _

This wasn't the arsenic sundae she originally anticipated-this was an all-out platter topped with Emma's head. This must be enough to convince Henry to put some distance between him and his birth mother. After all, he never expressed any liking for Gold before other than a polite "hello" here and there.

"Splendid work, Sidney. Feel free to print it on the front page of tomorrow's paper. It'll be far more interesting than the school's science fair."

For the past couple of years, she had given Henry the necessary supplies to make a volcano for his science fair. This year, he had insisted that Mary Margaret was helping him do something different. She had the sneaking suspicion that Mary Margaret Blanchard was playing favoritism and taking some of the work load off Henry's shoulders, justified only by doe-eyed complaints of how lonely he was.

"I would love nothing more, Madame Mayor," he agreed eagerly. Regina nodded in dismissal and returned to her papers, intent on getting some decent work done today. Sidney remained standing in front of her desk, his hands clasped over his chest, his shoes scuffing her polished tiles. Why wasn't he leaving?

"Well? Get to it. You have a deadline to make," she snapped, jutting her pen toward the door.

"I...can't." That wasn't what she liked to hear. Before she could demand an explanation, he pulled something out of his pocket. It was little more than a pile of junk, which he carefully dumped on her desk. "You see, Emma Swan caught me taking pictures of her last night and she smashed my camera. Then she threatened that I would have more than a broken camera if I took pictures of her again."

_Wait until you see what I threaten you with after wasting my time. _

Regina slowly panned her eyes from the mound of shattered camera parts to grill Sidney with a stone-cold look that was meant to flay the skin from his bones. Sidney hunched his shoulders and shrunk inside his jacket.

"I am going to count to three. If you're still in my sight after that, I will redecorate my office with your flesh and blood. Three..._two_..."

She had never seen Sidney scurry so fast out the door. If she possessed magic, she would have thrown a fireball at his feet to make him move faster. What was worse, he left that rubble on her desk.

Regina was about to toss it in the bin, but she had a better idea.

...

All it took to ruin Gold's day was the clacking of stilettos.

His euphoria after breakfast with Emma burned off quickly when the bell chimed and a pair of heels stormed into his shop. _What does she want now? She's the clingy, bitter ex-girlfriend I never had, _he thought, rising from the chair behind his desk. He took his time collecting his cane. _She deserves to wait. _

"Gold," she screeched like a banshee through the curtain. "Get out here before I set fire to this junkyard you call a shop!"

Wasn't that typical of her? No respect for any territory except her own. As for setting it aflame..._I'd like to see you try, dearie. That apple tree of yours will go up in flame just as easily once I water it with gasoline. _

Of course, then he would end up occupying a jail cell next to Regina, courtesy of Emma. That would put a damper on their next breakfast meeting.

When he pushed aside the curtain, he immediately spotted Regina leaning against the front counter, with one hand planted firmly on her hip. An ugly scowl contorted her tight lips. On the scale of one to ten, her rage was a fifteen today.

"I sensed your anger through the curtain. Have you considered going to Dr. Hopper for anger management?" Regina narrowed her eyes to slits. He stepped behind the counter and that was when he noticed the clump of broken glass and jagged pieces that Regina so carelessly deposited next to the register. "If you were planning to pawn this, I'll kindly give you directions to the nearest dumpster instead."

Regina was not amused.

"Enough with the quips, Gold. This," she spread her hands over the pile of rubbish, "is what remains of Sidney's camera after Emma Swan took it upon herself to crush it with her boot. That is destruction of personal property. I could have her arrested."

_Again, _he added silently. Never mind that a broken camera was a ridiculous thing to don silver bracelets for. If Emma truly felt remorse for what she did-unlikely after the invasion of her privacy-she could easily replace Sidney's camera.

Regina was desperate for any chance to hang Emma.

"If so, you would have done it already. You decided to come here and clutter my counter with this...junk." As Regina watched, he swept the remains of the camera into the small black trash bin he kept under the counter. "This is you gloating or venting. Which is it?"

Regina's nostrils flared. _The latter, then. _

"I can and will have her arrested. The next time you have breakfast with her, you'll have to pass her coffee through the bars," she insisted. She leaned far over the counter, trying to get in his face, but he threateningly wielded an uncapped fountain pen at her white blouse, forcing her back. "You know Sheriff Graham will do it in a heartbeat."

Heartbeat? Did she honestly think she was being clever? She had Graham's heart in a box, ready to flip the switch and turn him into her obedient zombie at any second. It made any moment that Emma spent alone with him dangerous. On Regina's cue, Graham could snap her neck.

It was a good thing Regina hadn't thought of that yet.

"Yes, but, ah, on whose property was Sidney Glass trespassing when this destruction occurred? Oh, right. Mine." Suddenly Regina was at risk of popping a vein in her forehead. _Checkmate. _"You claim you can have Emma Swan arrested on weak charges when what you should really be doing is getting down on your knees and begging me not to do worse to your slimy spy. All I have to do is put the right amount of money in the right pocket. You and I both know the justice system is corrupt."

"Why do you insist on defending her?"

"Why do you insist on making every last organism in this town miserable?"

"Answering my question with a question is just childish."

"Takes one to know one," he flung back at her. The clever retorts and insults dried up before they could pass from Regina's mouth. "What do you have to gain from this, Madame Mayor? Clearly, you're never satisfied. You're never happy. You lose more than you ever gain."

Regina backed away from the counter, the truth of his words ringing in her ears and sucking the color out of her cheeks.

Even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he knew better than anyone what this curse had cost her. It was meant to provide her a twisted version of a happy ending, but it wasn't enough. Not even Henry could fill that black, rotten void in her heart. Nothing ever would. _All magic comes with a price. I did warn you, dearie. _

"_Please, _leave," he demanded, pointing to the door. He had grown tired of her threats, theatrics, and negativity.

That special word-_please-_brought the spark of fury to Regina's eyes again. She had no choice but to obey his request, even in this land. If he ever woke, she would pay for breaking their deal. She wasn't willing to risk it. _Oh, Madame Mayor, if you only knew..._

He wanted to keep that to himself as long as possible.

"This is all a game to you, isn't it? A sick, sadistic mind-game. Be warned: I never lose," she snarled and charged out the door. Regina was on the warpath. He only hoped Emma could handle her when their paths intersected.

...

Regina's fingers suffocated a withering bouquet of flowers in her hand as she shoved open the door of the Mills' family tomb. Oh, how she wished her fingers were curled around Emma's throat instead.

Her cheek still stung from the punch Emma delivered. She supposed throwing a punch at Emma first wasn't a bright idea, but she hadn't been thinking clearly, not after watching Graham walk away. In terms of physical might, Emma Swan overpowered her.

The bouquet of flowers landed next to the casket, forgotten. The nameplate bore the name _Henry Mills, _but her father's body did not rest in that white casket. The dead did not carry over to Storybrooke. Likewise, any who died and were buried in Storybrooke would never return home.

If the curse ever broke.

She wouldn't allow it.

She didn't bother grieving over the memory of her father. The bouquet was for show, so she could visit the vault under the crypt without any possible witnesses questioning it. Her vault, filled with beating hearts.

Using every bit of strength she had left in her bones, Regina pushed the casket to the far right of the crypt, revealing the set of stairs directly underneath. No one in Storybrooke even knew it existed.

Step by step, Regina plunged into the gloomy, must-smelling vault under Storybrooke, stopping only to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Her fingers never stopped rubbing over her throbbing cheek. If anything, it kept her blood boiling.

She never was good at containing her emotions when she was upset. It often had disastrous results; she made mistakes and only regretted them when it was far too late to change them.

At first, she only wanted to retrieve Graham's heart so she could order him to arrest Emma again. Now...she had taken him away just like she took Henry. He wanted to take control of his life and that meant cutting Regina out of it. Another person that betrayed her, abandoned her.

_You're never happy. You lose more than you ever gain. _

She needed this town, this curse.

She needed to be happy.

To that end, she simply could not afford to have Graham remember who he truly was. Everything would start to unravel, people would start awakening one by one, Emma would be seen as a hero for defeating the Evil Queen, and Henry...Henry would be gone forever.

It had to be done.

She remembered which drawer it was, even though none were labeled. Most of the hearts she did not care for. They were here because she had taken them out of rage or punishment. Their only purpose now was desperate measures.

Pulling open one drawer, she removed the ancient black chest inside. There was an intricate carving of a heart on the lid. Inside the chest, nestled in one corner and glowing an eerie red, was Graham's heart. It had been taken so long ago, after he had shown mercy to Snow White rather than kill her like she ordered.

If he had done what she asked, none of this would have to happen.

Despite the anger that tunneled through her veins with the scorching heat of lava, a single tear crystallized in the corner of her eye and slid down her swollen cheek as her fingers wrapped around Graham's heart. This was for the best, another price she needed to pay for her happiness. _So be it, _she thought. _Goodbye, Graham. _

Then her nails wormed their way into the soft tissue of his heart, crushing it in her fist until it was nothing but dust in the wind.

...

Very few people were capable of taking Emma by surprise. Regina's threats and Gold's manipulation did not intimidate her because she had seen too much darkness in the world already. Only kindness and affection shook her to the core, for she had lacked any sort of comfort for years on end.

The first time Graham had kissed her in the street, it had surprised her. It had been the last thing she expected to happen. She couldn't remember the last time she shared a kiss with anyone, let alone one that held any sort of meaning.

That night, he kissed her again. Initially, he was leaning over her, tenderly cleaning up a gash on her temple after her fight with Regina. Then his lips were pressed against hers, not quite demanding but desperate all the same. After that, she lost control of her muscles, perching on the edge of the desk like a statue.

It took her by surprise more than the first time. This kiss felt genuine, true. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to be comforted. To throw caution to the wind. Slowly but surely, her thick steel walls wore down.

She kissed him back.

"Thank you," he whispered after their kiss had ended. It might have been her imagination or the breathlessness that came with such a consuming kiss, but his accent sounded deeper than usual, thicker. _Thanks...for what? Returning the kiss? Making you feel something? _

There was a brightness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, reminiscent of someone getting over a hangover or waking up from a long slumber.

Before Emma could register what it meant, Graham's legs buckled and his body crashed to the floor. The color in his face was reduced to a sickly chalk-white and his hand clutched at his chest in pain. Over his heart.

"Graham?"

He was beyond hearing. Emma fell to her knees and held his head in her lap while his limbs spasmed. There was nothing to be done. In no time at all, the spasms stopped, but so did Graham's heart. The light in his eyes faded, forever unseeing, his lips turned a ghastly shade of blue, and every muscle in his body went limp.

Emma wasn't aware she was crying until the skin beneath her eyes burned from the salty moisture.

No one had ever died in her arms before.

...

_**Just a small note: if you guys enjoy reading Golden Swan, I started a new one-shot collection called "Desperate Souls" meant entirely for the pairing. It was partly inspired by BundyShoes' collection of drabbles called "The Stories That Makes Us," which I highly recommend. (-; **_


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